It's funny because it's true

Negative Capability

Here it is.

My big moment.

The chains are off. No agendas to meet, not a one.

Do as I imagine. Do as I think we could be.

I can blow it all up and re-create it.

So why not!

And I will.

What's the answer?

There's the middle of the river.

Calm. Meandering.

Ripple free.

Never, ever reaching one shore or the other

And being in content that there are waters without answer.

Moderately Representin'?

Let me be clear about something: The hateful rhetoric runs both ways. It's maddening, discouraging, distasteful and juvenile.

In viewing the recent video made by Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer that appears on YouTube, I decided to read through the comments. The more I read, the more aghast I became. The comments were of the most vile and despicable in nature. NC-17 stuff, honestly.

Two things started to pop out at me as I read. One, the majority of hate speech was running decidedly in favor of those coming from—wait for it—leftists. (This can't make reasonable and fair-minded liberals proud. But the right-wingers shouldn't be puffing their chests, either.)

And two, not one moderate voice from either side step in and denounced. That, to me, is the more disturbing part. More on that after I subject you to NC-17 comments.*

"why cant she just die... i mean i dont really wish death on anyone but if i did, you know... just die!"

"30 miles from the Capital??/ What capital is 30 miles from the border...this WORTHLESS CUNT NEEDS TO BE DEPORTED TO SWEDEN...FUCKING DUMB BLONDE."

"fuck u hoe racist bitch"

"This imbecile's popularity is based soley on being anti-Mexican, so her being a drugged out zombie is ok... pathetic"

"She is mad, cuz her crack pipe broke..lol.. she looks a real crackhead hooker..she looks like freddy krueger. Go Play Bingo Stop on Hate.KKK,Nazi Bicth"

Racist Bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! coming from an immigrant family her self....DO I SEE A NEXT HITLER......I THINK I DO!!!!!!! THATS WHY ARIZONA IS AS BROKE AS IT IS....lame ass governer who doesnt know SHIT!!!!


And from the right:

"go take back your own country shitass.....where in a depression, we don't need your sorry ass here!!!"

"Fuck you chicken shit! You ILLEGAL? Watch and see how BIG she wins in Nov you Fucking Pocho!"

I honestly believe what needs to be done—and it matters not a whit whether you're a right-winger, left-winger or in between—is to denounce people like this. (Or, in the case of Muslims, denounce and openly call for an end to the violence that blasphemes their religion.)

The idiots from above are easy to spot. Yet it's people who we think are smart, like the WaPo's Eugene Robinson or NYT's Paul Krugman, that subtly cast and brand those who oppose the current party in power as 'racists'. They are more dangerous because they wield such tremendous influence due to their medium. The same can be said Fox's Glenn Beck who called Supreme Court Justice Sotomayor a "racist" and accused Obama being a "racist." Really? Seriously?

Look, people like this are sharp impediments on the road to truth. They flatten the tires on the issue(s) and make it impossible to get anywhere near a solution or to engage in rational and studied disagreement and debate.

The solution? Kick them out of the road every time you see it, moderates. And then maybe, just maybe, we might get back Reasonable Discourse-ville. If we were ever there at all.


*The thread was hijacked by about 4 rather bizarre individuals flaming one another, so I kept my selections apart from them.

What I Owe

Debts.

Some are bigger than others.

Mine?

Insurmountable.

I cannot repay except in prayer.

Losing Choices Isn't Losing Liberty?

Oops! Headline missing a key word.

At the height of the health care debate, an old colleague of mine and me were discussing the issue. I asserted that there would economic consequences to gov't undercutting private insurers and forcing them to take on high-risk clients. I argued that this would force small-to-medium insurers out of business, thus shrinking the insurance provider market place, resulting in fewer choices, eventually forcing people to go with the least expensive option—Obamacare. This, I said, is a loss of liberties.

I was dumbfounded by his reply and didn't know how to answer:

I'm also not quite sure how fewer choices equals losing liberty. Choice is not the same thing as liberty. If Skippy goes out of business and I can only choose between Jiff and Safeway brand, have I lost liberty?

Now I do. Mostly because I don't know want to reach through the screen and punch him in the face for being so patently smarmy and ignorant.

First, I'm glad he inadvertently acknowledged that insurance is a private commodity, which has been one of my arguments: the federal government cannot fine or tax you for not buying a private commodity, which health insurance is and ObamaCare does fine/tax. It is a clear violation of the 10th Amendment. Obamacare tries to sneak around that by allowing insurers to compete across state lines, which is good, but there's a big problem:

His example is flawed, however, because he failed to acknowledge that the State is one of competitors—and one that is arbitrarily and artificially setting and capping the market price for insurance. This will drive many insurers out of business, thus resulting in fewer choices, not because a product or service naturally failed in the marketplace.

Eventually, as large insurers will be forced to take on greater and deeper risk pools, they will be forced to drive up prices just to remain solvent. Then, instead of people making insurers compete for business, one will be forced to go with ObamaCare because it's the most affordable. (Wouldn't you go with the lower price too if you weren't wealthy? I would.)

What happens? Only the wealthy and elite will be able to afford private insurance, with millions of Americans forced to pay for the only one available: ObamaCare.

Being forced by the government to take a government service? If that ain't a loss of liberty, brother, than I don't know what is.

One Hand

The tournament at Roxy's has changed slightly since the last time I played back in January. Now it's a $40 buy-in and 10,000 in chips with blinds starting at 100/200, making for an ever slightly faster paced game where aggression is rewarded in the right spot.

Like with my first hand last night.

There are 8 players at my table (16 total) and I'm in the big blind (BB).

The second player to act puts in a minimum raise of 400 (minimum raises are a tell tale sign of a a weak player who doesn't understand proper bet sizing). The small blind calls for 300. I look down at Kh-Qh. A good hand, but not exactly one I want to raise with out of the BB, especially when I have no reads on my opponents. Better off just calling and taking the flop, I think. I call.

The pot: 1200.

The flops comes: Qc-10h-8h.

This is a really, really good flop for my hand, so I want to be aggressive with it to disguise its strength. And why is it strong? For a simple reason: outs. And what is an "out?" It's any unseen card that could potentially improve my hand and is likely to win. So here are my outs (and I can do this really quickly in my head before betting):

9 hearts to a flush (there are 13 in the deck and we know about 4)
3 kings for two pair*
2 queens for trips
3 tens to make 2 pair
3 eights to make 2 pair

Total: 20 outs, or cards that will improve my hand. Using the Rule of 4 and 2, I multiply the number of outs x 4 on the flop. (On the turn you multiply by 2.), which gives me a roughly 80% chance of winning this hand. There's a little dance going on in my head.

Now of course I don't know what cards my opponents are holding, but there's one way to find out: bet.

So I bet 1000. The 2nd player pops it to 2500, a good and slightly fishy raise indicating a couple of things: a) He's protecting AQ, b.) he has a set of 10s or 8s, c.), he has AA or KK or d.) he has a straight draw he's protecting (like KJ). I plan on calling, but let's see what the SB does.

Pot count: 4700

SB re-pops it 5000. Whoa, I didn't expect that! Very interesting.

Now it's on me.

Pot: 9700

My pots odds are roughly: 2.5:1. Expressed as a percentage, 30%, if I call. (13,700 divided by 4000 I'd have to call=29%)

Since the expected value of my hand is on the positive (I'm 2.8:1 favorite against any pair and the pot is laying me 2.5:1) When the odds of drawing a card that wins the pot are higher than the pot odds, it's a near instant call. If I'm up against 2 pair, I'll lose at least 5 outs, making it 15 outs, or 60%.

I really think the SB has either a.) flopped two pair or b.) he flopped a straight (highly unlikely). AQ isn't likely, but possible and would be a slight underdog against my draw.

Calling isn't an option here really as it will cost me more than half of my stack, thus committing to make a call to see the river no matter what card comes on the turn.

"This is a really, really good hand," I say to the SB. "And I'm fairly certain I know what you have." I look at the original raiser, I'm not sure about you, but I have an idea, I think to myself.

"There's really only one right move here, and folding isn't one of them. I'm all in," I say, pushing my chips into the middle and show my Kh-Qh. The original raiser calls. Hmm, I wasn't expecting that. He shows Kc-Jc giving him only 6 "clean" outs (the Ah and 9h are "dirty" outs for him). The SB shows Qd-10c, and has only 4 outs; his hand takes away 8 of my outs (the 10s, 8s and Qs=8), leaving me with 12 outs, or 48%.

I'm in good shape despite the SB's two pair as we're a virtually coin flip for a huge pot. Then:

Turn: 6s

River: 2d

One hand.

I'm out.

"You gotta be kidding me," I mutter to myself. "12 outs and I miss every one. Fucking standard."

No regrets, though. It was unquestionably the right play in every way, mathematically and strategically.

Funny thing is, I don't know it yet, but my night's about to get a whole lot worse.

One Tired-Ass (and Heartless) Meme

Meme.: A concept that spreads swiftly via the Internet.

Thank you, Wikipedia.

And I'll emphatically add: a concept that, more often than not, ain't necessarily true the deeper one looks.

Take for example this recent meme: "Heartless and hateful Republicans don't want to extend unemployment benefits! Bastards!" If not those exact words, pretty darn close.

A liberal friend, who happens to be unemployed, said to me recently, "it scares me that so many republican politicians carelessly brush aside our (at this point) absolute dependence on unemployment money." That's quote for quote.

This bothered me.

So, I asked my heartless self: Was I a member of the heartless party heartlessly denying hearty unemployment insurance (UI) extension to millions of hearty Americans.

Turns out, um, no, not really.

The then-proposed UI extension, some $34 billion, was a part of a larger $200 billion stimulus (Swindle Us) bill, per the WaPo:

The extension was first introduced in a nearly $200 billion package of economic measures sought by the Obama administration, including fresh aid to state governments and extended health insurance subsidies for the unemployed.

$200 billion? Shoot, that means that not even 1/4 of the money was going to go to UI. So, naturally....

Republicans blasted the spending plan, and conservative Democrats revolted, demanding that the package be scaled back.

So it was:

Democratic leaders spent the next two months tossing various items overboard until nothing was left but the least controversial bit of spending: income support for unemployed workers. Democrats downsized even that program, dropping a $25-a-week bonus for all jobless workers* that had been enacted under last year's stimulus package.

Two months. (Or, if you're unemployed, that's better said, "Two fucking months!")

Yet, our dear President made strong allusions to it being all the GOP's fault, saying that it was just partisan tactics "that unconscionably held up unemployment insurance."

On really?

If extending UI was such an "emergency" as was argued by liberals, why didn't the Democrat-controlled Congress propose a straight-as-an-arrow UI bill?

Well, first of all, UI extensions have been a part of stimulus packages before, so that's no surprise. And it's no surprise that there was opposition to the first version wanting an additional $166 billion in spending—particularly in light of the $800 billion in TARP that isn't working as advertised. Basically, what the GOP said was, "Hey, we're fine (sort of**) with extending UI bennies, but you've got to cut the rest of this crap out of here. And explain how we'll pay for this while you're at it."

That took 2 months. The ball was in their court for 2 months.

Yes, "Those heartless and hateful Republicans!" "brushing aside" the unemployed.

Grab your hip waders, the memes are deep and plentiful. On both sides.


*What? What is this?
** Another $34 billion borrowed from our Chinese buddies. Oye. And yes, with a vote 272 to 152 there was still GOP opposition to the bill. For good reason.***
***At 99 weeks, when do the extensions end? At 9% unemployment? 8%? 6%? At some point, there has to be a cutoff. Having the political cajones to do so, is another question

OP's Summer of New

Last summer, I purchased new golf clubs for the first time in 12 years. Up until 6 weeks ago, I loved them! (I still love them; I'm just deflecting responsibility for my shitty swing on to them because, as we all know, it's the clubs' fault, stupid.)

Anyway, this summer is featuring even more new goodness for me!

Recently, I purchased my first-ever pair of prescription sunglasses, plus a new pair of regular old glasses. (I look sharp in them, too.) I also got a stylish and sinister looking PokerStars hoodie after cashing in some bonus points. (Look out fish!) Then I received a new set of fake teeth. (Sigh.) And, finally, this past Monday, I purchased my first-ever—insert drum roll, please—iPhone!

The 4, to be exact. The one with the antenna issue. Oye gavult.

Leave it to me to finally succumb to technology's siren song only to be thwarted by a glitch. Temporarily, anyway.

Now the sunglasses are pretty awesome as I can drive in bring sunlight without squinting like a 85-year old at the poker table trying to figure out if that's a diamond or a heart on his hole cards. But it's the iPhone that I preordered that's got me jazzed.

The thing is, I'm about as tech savvy as I am handy around the house, so I hope I can make the darn thing work to the best of its ability. I'm sure I will. Hell, it is made by Apple, only the world's most tech-friendly company, I should be fine!

Now watch me end up downloading the "Human-Ending Plague" app, accidentally pressing "Send Plague Now" and being solely accountable for the end of mankind.*

Just thought I should warn you.


*This is why the world is the way it is in Cormac McCarthy's "The Road." App user malfunction. And here you thought his post-apocalyptic world was because of a limited nuclear war or global warming.

My Unmanly Confession

My poor wife. She did not marry a handy man. She married a Guy Who Can Do Some Things, Just Don't Give Him a Nail Gun or Miter Saw for Christmas kind of guy.

Projects where manual labor is required (ex: rebuilding the back on our fence or rerouting the spouts for the gutters) or a job where a particular skill set needs to be involved (ex: replacing a light fixture in our guest bedroom) or where patience is required (ex: hanging new closet doors) around my house usually go undone for months. And in some cases years. Is it laziness? Lack of skill? Lack of time? Lack of tools?

While it's true that I don't have the skills or the tools to do these projects, I have to say this: I'm not interested in trying to tackle them in the first place. Really, I'm not interested. At all. In fact, I have about as much interest in talking about projects and how to do them as I do in listening to Stephen Hawking give a lecture in quantum physics. Or listening "How to Macrame" on NPR.

Part of the lack of interest stems from losing my Dad when I was 17. Man, he could build stuff. He built my sister's doll house. He also built my wickedly cool train set that folded out from the wall like a Murphy bed. We also completed our walkway and retaining wall shortly before he died. However, he never showed me how to lay down bricks or how to measure posts and so on. Not his fault entirely as I don't recall asking to learn how to do them. But I also remember not being interested in the first place.

This causes me some embarrassing and uncomfortable moments when socializing with my fellow dudes. When they get talking about doing X, Y and Z to their houses, I just nod politely and try to maintain interest. This is problematic as it can cement my feet in to a conversation for untold minutes. (Good thing beer is usually on hand to get me through such conversations.) For example, I know a guy who's worked on his house going on 2+ years now. He's remodeled the kitchen and all of the rooms, plus done all the wiring on the house. It looks great! But to hear him talk about it all I keep thinking is, "You've spent 2+ years of your life doing this? Holy hell, you missed a lot of sunny golf days." And then I try to finish my beer so I can slink off for a new one.

Part of my lack of interest lies in patience, mostly because I lack it—particularly when things don't go as planned as projects have a way of doing.

To me, spending an entire Sunday installing a door like my friend Andy did over at Dipso Chronicles just doesn't sound like a hootenanny. Yet that's what he did. By about the second or third hour I would've turned to my wife and said, "Honey, I hope you're okay without a front door for the next couple of nights because, fuck it, I'm fucking done with this shit right fucking now." Then I would have kicked the pile of shit door for not cooperating then stormed off to find the nearest beer.

And I'm not kidding about that level of frustration either.

Hell, you should have seen me try to put a new spool of cord on to my Weedwacker recently. The wacker is still spool-less. A door? You gotta be kidding me. Why bother.

Yet there's always been this little Tim The Toolman inside me who wants to get out and at least try.

My friend, Sean, made himself a poker table once—padded rails, velvet top, and he even put his own funky logo in the middle of the table. Fantastic piece of manly man that he built. I wanted one too. So I asked him how he did it. He said it was easy, all he did was blah, blah, blah, did blah, blah, blah, then did blah, blah, blah afterhe did blah, blah, blah, but he had trouble with blah, blah, blah when blah, blah, blah didn't attach to blah, blah, blah so he blah, blah, blah and was done.

He was the teacher in Peanuts to me. I couldn't relate. I asked him how much it cost. He said about $350 for all the materials.

I wanted to double it to $700 to cover his cost in labor for building me one as well.

Also, when we first bought our house, I had interest and verve in doing various projects. I gladly engaged in painting, installing a lock on the front door, patching holes. putting up the mailbox and so on.I even bought a Home Depot book on how to do every imaginable house project. Then I remembered who brought the toolkit into our family unit: my wife.

I even did one major house project that required a great deal of help: Building our fence. I'm glad we hired Matt otherwise our fence would have been as useful as the Maginot Line in keeping the then-alive dog in the yard and unwanted critters and people out.

I feel sorry for my son in all this, too. Daddy's never going to teach him how to build a deck, or lay a walk way, or tile the bathroom, or fix a pipe, and so on. If he's interested in learning, well, that's why there are technical courses at the local junior colleges. And I'll be happy to pay for them too.

These days, my wife now knows that if she wants to get something done that we'll need to hire some one. New doors? New can lights in living room? New tile on the fireplace? If you can do those things, buddy, you're hired.

Look, in the end, I get the whole pride in doing it yourself idea, or that feeling accomplishment. Or that doing projects is a way of relaxing and so on. I get all that. Those are all well and good, and bully for you!

Me? It's "No, Lowe's, let's not build something together. You do it. I've got better things to do." Like play golf. Or take a nap. Anything but measuring or pounding and remeasuring and repounding.

I Approve This Message

From David Boze's blog at KTTH.

More Poking Fun at Soccer

So, an old friend on Facebook was "looking for suggestions on where to watch the USA-Algeria match* tomorrow."

I replied: "On Sportscenter, skipping the 89:55 minutes of inaction?"**

This is too easy. And far too fun!

*Even soccer fans dare not call it a "game."
** To my friend's credit, he replied, "That's how I watch golf."

Confirming What We Already Knew About Soccer

It's really gay.

Big hat tip to Andy on this one.



Soccer Officially Announces It Is Gay

Three Keys to Shaving Strokes in Golf

There is one big way to shoot low score in golf: avoid blow-up holes. That means no double or triple bogeys, and definitely no snowmen.

By no means am I there yet. I took a 9 on the par 5, 525-yard 4th hole on my home course; and a double at the second. I took a triple on a 435-yard par 4 last Saturday to go with two doubles. The former—if I had just bogeyed each hole—prevented me from shooting a 77; the latter cost me money.

So these tips are as much for me as they are you!

The Most Dreaded Shot in Golf

Last Saturday, on a 310-yard, uphill par 4, my playing partner Sanders and I hit our drives right next to each other—literally just 3 feet apart. We were both looking at an uphill 55-yard pitch shot.

"I hate this shot," he grumbled as we came up to our shots, expressing a sentiment of many golfers.
I was first to hit and knocked mine right of the hole, but pin high to 14 feet (yeah, I walk off my putts). Sanders hit his shot, yanking it long and left and leaving himself a good 30-footer for birdie. I liked my chances at birdie. His? Not so much. (Sanders made a slippery 4 footer for par. Me? My bird finished 2 inches to the right. Damn.)

While I'm no Tiger Woods at an 8.3 handicap, I know why golfers like Sanders hate these pitch shots: They don't practice them enough, if at all! (Sanders negativity didn't help, either.)

How important is this shot to average to above average player?*
Guess how many times I faced shots in that 55-105-yard range last week? 9. My previous round, 6. The round before that, 8. The round before that, 7.

Clearly the 55-105 shot has to be in my bag if I want to score low, so I make sure it is. That's why when I go to the range, my first 15-20 shots are with my 52º and 56º wedges. I also end my session with 7-10 of these shots.

The more I practice it, the more comfortable I am with it. (This is not to say that I've mastered these shots, I'm just less intimidated by them.)
Here's my tip: The next time you go to the range, get a small bucket of roughly 50 balls and use the entire bucket to hit shots in the 50-110 yard range. Yup, leave the driver and irons in the bag and use the entire bucket for these shots.

"But that's wasting balls!" my friend Natalie protested the other day.

"Would you rather "waste" range balls or strokes on the course, Nat?"

"Shut up."

That's what I thought. Enough said.

Laying Up: When to Recognize Trouble and Eliminate a Big Score

A couple of times a week I pass my home course's difficult 13th hole. It's par 3 that plays 182 to 191 yards (depending on where the tees are) over a ravine and is ever so slightly downhill. There's a bunker short and right of the green; and another long and back left. To the right is a grove of tall pines with low-hanging branches, and a chain-link fence next to the road. Short and to the left of the hole is wide open. The green slopes from back to front and has a false front. And the hardest part of the hole is prevailing wind, which is either coming straight at you or from the left, thus adding more yards to the hole. Par is a great score; bogey, while obviously not ideal, is acceptable. Here's a view of the hole (though this is shot considerably "up" in front of the tees.):

So how do I approach this hole? First, I identify the trouble. Right is obviously no good. The less obvious trouble is long; it'll be hard to get it close with the green sloping away from me. Left is fine (look at all that room!), but it leaves me with a long and more difficult pitch shot that has to carry the false front. Then I consider my club yardage. I hit my 5-iron off a tee anywhere from 180-190 yards. My 22º 3 hybrid I hit 200-215. So, I'm between clubs.

My strategy is clear then: Aim for the blue spruce, take a 5-iron and play for a lay up.

What? Lay up on a par 3?

Absolutely, and for several reasons. With a good chip, I can get up and down for par—and, at worst, 2-putt for bogey. Two, I virtually eliminate double or even triple bogey from the scorecard. Three, thinking "lay up" puts less pressure on me to make a perfect swing, thus relaxing my muscles and allowing me to make a better swing. (What I'm doing here is fooling my body a bit. I know darn well that I can put it dead center on the green, but putting artificial pressure on myself to do so usually results in a hurried swing with a less-than-ideal result.)

How has this approach worked out? 5 out of the last 7 times I've parred the hole! The other two were bogeys. A fella can really fall in love with those results.

The lay up is a powerful shot; and it can be used in numerous situations around a course with a positive effect on your scorecard. There are just a couple of rules to follow.

First, recognize where potential trouble lurks on a hole. Second, keep your ego in check. (Can I really make this shot? If no, pick a club that gets you to wedge yardage or a spot where you'll be comfortable.) Finally, as I pointed out in my above example, be creative. Defy conventional wisdom. Maybe on a long 450-yard par 4 you lay up your second shot

Keep Your Penis in the Bag and Take More Club

The penis. It costs golfers more shots than any other club in the bag—and that includes women. Nowhere does the penis play a more sinister role than on approaches.

The thinking goes something like this, "Hmm, okay. I have 135 yards to the hole. That's a 9-iron for me, so 9-iron it is." And they end up 10-15 yards short of the hole.

Thank you very much, Mr. Penis.

Had the golfer put the clubhead cover on Mr. Penis and gone with a smooth 8, they would be pin high and tight.

Case in point. A guy I'm playing with, carrying the exact same handicap as me (8.3), steps up to his shot. He has 132-yards to the hole that plays steeply uphill. He breaks out his range finder.

"Well, 132 yards. That's my 9."

We had become friendly during the round, but not so much that I felt like dispensing advice. Take one more club or you'll never get there, sport.

Guess who ended up short. If you said Mr. Penis, you win a dozen Pro V1s.

Meanwhile, just prior to that, yours truly put the clubhead cover on Mr. Penis, broke out the 7-iron—a club I normally hit 148-155 yards+—and from 141 yards put my shot 12 feet above the cup. Par for me**, bogey for him.

The trouble here is that golfers are counting on making their best shot. A good positive state of mind, for sure, but it puts too much pressure on you and your swing to make a perfect shot.

Look, golf isn't about "I hit that 7-iron 165 yards" and then failing to tell everyone that you bogeyed the hole; it's about making accurate shots to give yourself a chance at par or better.

There's no dishonor in clubbing up, so do it.

Do those three things and I guarantee you'll lower your scores for sure!

Here endth the lesson.


*The average golfer is an 18 handicap!
** Damn, I need to start making these. Missed four from within 15 ft for birdie last week.

M.Y.O.F.B., Part 2

Just a little while ago in a galaxy very close to home....

Again, I go to the kitchen to pour out the last inch of warm and flat Diet Coke so I can deposit it in the recycle bin. This time, another female co-worker is just finishing up washing a dish.

"May I?" I ask, pointing to the sink and the bottle.

"Oh yeah, sure, sure," she says quickly. "Go right ahead."

I begin pouring.

"I can't drink that stuff. All those bad preservatives. I don't know how you do it." she chortles.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Again? Really?

"See this word here?" I quickly reply, smiling and pointing to the last ingredient of caffeine. "That's why I drink it." I gloss over my real reason: I like the stuff. So fuck you.

"Uh, yeah, it still has those preservatives. So bad for you," she again chortles.

Just shut up, OP. Don't say a word. You've gotten in enough trouble with your mouth lately. Dump your bottle and walk away.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be a busy body....I do that."

No, you shouldn't. But you couldn't help your sanctimonious eco-weenie liberal self, could you, you....

"No problem...."

I really need to do a recon mission next time. Nah, screw that. Next time, I make a spectacle of dumping it out. And I'm gonna smile when I do it too. I swear.

Flirting During a Disaster

On April 20, BP and Transocean wanted their deepwater rig to explode and sink and send 11 workers to meet their maker.

Now BP wants to take their own sweet time stopping and cleaning up the disaster. Yes, those Earth-hating, greedy bastards really enjoy losing hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue and sales, spending billions in clean up, while accumulating hundreds of millions more (likely) in fines. Most of all, they really enjoy losing untold billions in negative PR. And worse, if BP doesn't hurry up and stop the leak, the government, with neither the means or know how, is going to "push them out of the way appropriately" and really fix the problem.

If you're waiting for the punchline, grab a seat, it's going to be a while. That's not a joke.

There are people out there, including friends of mine, who actually believe this present line of horse hockey. Worse, the Obama Administration is toting this line too. And the more bluster and bloviation the Administration spouts and touts, the worse and more desperate they appear as the days go by.

It's "Nice job, Brownie" idiocy, only strung over weeks instead of a soundbite. And all they're trying to do is distance themselves from their recent endorsement of increasing off-shore drilling.

It's all political grandstanding and kow towing to one's base. During an on-going disaster that is to sink to the lowest of new lows. The truth is, nobody in the Obama Administration, including Interior Secretary Ken Salazar, has the first fucking clue of how to stop the leak. Instead, they think the next best thing they can do is to stand on the sidelines criticizing and admonishing BP and making empty rhetorical threats so they can look good in the eyes of their anti-corporate, hate-Big-Oil base.

Well, gee, that's helpful. Thank you very fucking much.

For all the admonishing liberals do to conservatives when they pander to their base on issues, they're utterly oblivious when they're engaging in shameless pandering themselves.

Look, there is only one appropriate and winning response that should be coming from the government and the Obama Administration: Shut up, step up and help out where one can. Point fingers—Obama being the World Fingerpointing Champ, especially toward the previous administration—have investigations, call for regulations and hearings and sub-committees of sub-committees, do it all. Just do it all later.