Thursday, October 26, 2006

Political thought # 10

A politician wants to “engage” in problem solving, not actually solve problems.

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    Political thought # 9

    “Earmarked” funds are a concept, not a reality.

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    Political thought # 8

    Candidates always accuse their opponents of what they would have done given the same circumstances.

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    Political thought # 7

    Talent, skill and aptitude are secondary to money, connections and influence.

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    Political thought # 6

    There is a reason so many attorneys are attracted to politics. What they said and what you THINK they said have never been formally introduced.

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    Political thought # 5

    Politicians running for re-election will always campaign on a platform based on what they should have accomplished already.

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    Political thought # 4

    No matter what the facts are or how logical the position, the side with the most emotional appeal will win.

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    Political thought # 3

    There are honest, ethical politicians and there is a term that’s commonly used in association with them: also-rans.

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    Political thought # 2

    The phrase “Politics makes strange bedfellows” is SUPPOSED to be a metaphor.

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    Political thought # 1

    I’m not sure what’s worse, politicians treating us like we’re a bunch of ignorant stooges, or the fact that they’re predominantly correct in doing so.

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    Tuesday, October 24, 2006

    Waah waah, wahh waa waahh wa ...

    As a kid I always liked the noise Charlie Brown’s teachers made when they talked. There were never any real words, but you still got the idea by listening to the tone and inflection. What I didn’t realize as a kid is that when I got old and talked to my kids, they would hear exactly that when I spoke.

    The Eldest Aardvark Child was home weekend before last. One evening, on the way home, we stopped by the local Braum’s to pick up a gallon of milk. Never being one to let the opportunity slip past me, we also decided to pick up some ice cream (or as she used to call it many years ago - Key Keem). So, the EAC and I are perusing the display case, seeing what flavors are available.

    LittleA: “French Vanilla. Fudge Ripple. Mint Chocolate Chip. Peanut Butter Crunch. Ooh, look. They have Pumpkin.”

    EAC: “I don’t care what flavor we get.”







    EAC: “Ooh, look. They have Pumpkin!”

    I did what any of you would have done. Slumped my shoulders, shook my head and said, “You’re killing me here, you know that don’t you?”

    EAC: “What?”

    ::sigh::

    LittleA: “Didn’t you just hear me say that?”

    EAC: “I heard you talking, but I wasn’t really paying attention to what you were saying.”

    LittleA: “Waah waah, wahh waa waahh wah?”

    EAC: ::giggle:: “Pretty much.”

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    I’m a little old for teething

    It’s really unusual for me to dream and remember it. It happens occasionally, but not often. So, for me to have four dreams in two days (so, ok I’m old and take naps – plus I need my beauty sleep – I figure if I keep trying it’s bound to work eventually) puts things way beyond unusual and into the realm of the bizarre.

    Four dreams in two days isn’t really correct, though. Really, it’s been just one dream four times.

    I don’t recall what I’m doing in the dream, but as time passes my teeth begin to fall out. One at a time. There is no pain, no blood and no distress and each tooth comes out square-ish, not all pointy with long roots, but rather like small dice. I just spit them out in my hand and keep on doing whatever it is I’m doing. Pretty soon I have the thought that if this keeps up, I’m going to wind up looking like Gabby Hayes. Then I wake up.

    Only to discover I DO look like Gabby Hayes.

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    Tuesday, October 17, 2006

    Not gone

    Just busy, busy, busy.

    The EAC had a long weekend, so I left early Friday to go pick her up. Mrs. A is taking her back this morning. I have a kajillion things at work going on simultaneously, so I decided to get an early start today and see if I can knock a few out before the interruptions start.

    See you good folks later.

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    Wednesday, October 11, 2006

    I missed Teed-off Tuesday

    So, I guess I’ll have to settle for Whiny Wednesday. (Too bad for you)

    Saw where Babs Streisand displayed yet again what a total class act she is. I guess it goes to show that a beautiful voice does not always coincide with a beautiful heart. Charlotte Church, anyone?

    Ever notice that the folks who holler the loudest about not judging people by the color of their skin are the first ones to point out the color of their skin? That’s always confused me.

    There was a local art teacher that got fired (technically her contract was not renewed) recently after taking her fifth-grade charges to the Dallas Museum of Art. Seems that some of them got an eyeful of sculpture as they were passing through to the exhibit they were there to see and their parents complained. Now, I’m not suggesting that we start incorporating nudity into the fifth-grade curriculum, but it seems to me that the complainers should bare bear some of the responsibility. The permission slip they signed indicated that this would be a field trip to an ART MUSEUM. Hello? Anyone? Is there any reasonable person out there who wouldn’t know that there would be nekkidness at an art museum?

    I have four words to predict the success of Robin Williams latest “comedy” vehicle, Man of the Year (no, not THOSE four words...that's the name of the movie, silly!), based solely on the TV ads and previews I’ve seen: Flaming. Pile. Of. Poo. Anyone with a real sense of humor is going to avoid this one. Ooooh, Bruce Springsteen for Secretary of State. Yeah, that’s some edgy stuff all right. Comedy Gold. **Yawn**

    We’ve got a guy running as an independent for governor here in Texas by the name of “Kinky” Freidman. He’s a writer, comedian and musician and his whole platform is basically “I’m not a politician”. (I think that was tried a few years back in Minnesota with mixed results) The other independent is “Grandma” Strayhorn-Rylander-Strayhorn-Keeton-Strayhorn-Rylander (I may have gotten that a little mixed up). Her slogan is “One Tough Grandma”. Yeah, that’s a quality I want in a grandma for sure. “Suck it up, Granny!! This ain’t no church picnic! I want to see you sweat!” Mmmmm. Then again, maybe not. Which leaves us with the Democrat – Chris "Who?" Bell and the incumbent Republican – Rick “The Hair” Perry. Maybe instead of voting this year I’ll just stay home and try out that do-it-yourself lobotomy kit I bought off the internet(s).

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    Monday, October 09, 2006

    I woke up laughing

    I don't normally remember my dreams. But once in a while...

    The State Fair of Texas is upon us. I've lived here for 25 years and the fair is only 30 miles away. For every one of those 25 years, I've told myself, "Not this year, but maybe next year." (Hot betting tip - take the over) Anyway, as is normal, all the local channels innundate us with news segments about the fair. Usually, these involve the reporter eating whatever the newest fried food is. A couple of years ago it was fried Oreos, this year it's fried Coke. (Can Cornatees be far behind?)

    The Youngest Aardvark Child plays the oboe. Except during marching season, 'cause oboes don't march (don't ask me why, they just don't). So, during marching season she's in the "pit". For those of you who may not be initiated into the finer points of marching band, the pit is all those instruments that don't move around on the field, but rather, are stationary on the sideline. Which, for those of you thinking logically, seems to be a perfect place for a non-marching oboeist to play the oboe. Except she plays the mallets. And again, for the marching band neophyte, mallets are a large group of instruments that can be smacked around with a stick. Which, you have to admit, is pretty cool.

    Anyway, the YAC plays the vibes, which is a lot like a xylophone, but with a foot pedal to sustain the sound. The vibes are also a lot like the marimba, though if the YAC heard me say that she would feel the need to correct me. Attached to the vibes are other peripheral things like cymbals and chimes and she keeps something hanging from who knows where that looks like two cowbells attached to a rod that's been bent in half (putting the cowbell thingamabobs one above the other - slightly offset). Again, the YAC would tell you they're not cowbells, but they look like them and sound like them, so what do I know?

    So, what does all this have to do with my dream?

    I'm glad you asked.

    I dreamt I was watching a news segment about a live performance at the state fair. Who should be on the stage but Tito Puente (ok, so he plays the timbales, not the vibes - sue me). And as the camera is panning the crowd and swinging around to show the stage, what should happen to be right next to the stage? Well naturally a full sized billboard with one strangely familiar word.

    Possumblog

    You know, it's pretty bad when you get big-timed in your own dream.

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    Wednesday, October 04, 2006

    If I had any sense at all

    I’d never have anything to blog about. Or if I did have something I could blog about, I’d know better than to tell.

    Lucky for you…

    There have been several crises this past week involving un-locatable items and the YAC. You don’t have to be in the same room to know a crisis is at hand. The rising decibel level gives it away.

    The delicious irony of it all is that in every instance, Mrs. A has been able to walk in the YAC’s room, stir around the top layer of crap and uncover the missing item within seconds.

    I do believe I’m the only one in the house that’s amused.

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    Tuesday, October 03, 2006

    LittleA is in the hizzouse

    YAC: “So, Girlfromschool asked Boyfromschool ‘where were you this weekend?’ and Boyfromschool said he was at his aunts house.”

    LittleA: “Hizzants house? Fo’ shizzle?”

    (I crack me up)

    Now for the truly scary part







    Mrs. A laughed.

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    Monday, October 02, 2006

    Home is where I want to be

    Homecoming at the high school Friday night. Mrs. A had dolled up a stuffed lion for the Youngest Aardvark Child to take to school on Friday. Since the YAC is in the band, she couldn’t take it with her to the game, so Mrs. A took it. I kept expecting her to hand it off to the YAC after halftime, but the lion stayed with us the whole game. I’m still a little confused as to why Mrs. A needed a stuffed lion with ribbons and cowbells (MORE COWBELL!!!) and such, but I find it’s best just to do as I’m told and not ask too many questions.

    Since Mrs. A is still using the crutches when she’s out and about, we sat down low in the bleachers right next to an entrance/exit. The metal bleachers are poorly designed and as a result the first step is out in the walkway. I wish I had $1 for every time someone tripped over that step – then I could pay for someone to extend the handrail down another foot to keep people from tripping over it.

    Sitting by the entrance like that is always entertaining. Especially amusing are the folks that show up mid-way through the second quarter – of Homecoming, mind you – and expect there to be four open seats on the 40 yard line.

    Our boys played well enough to win. Too bad our coach is confused about the role of time-outs in clock management. Mostly, when it’s under a minute and the clock is running and the other team needs to score to win, it’s probably not your best move to call time-out and stop the clock. Twice. Naturally, with OUR two time-outs and their two-time outs, the other team had just enough time to score and win. In pondering it, I’ve come to the conclusion that when you’re a small-time school you should only expect to attract and retain small-time coaches…and there are good reasons these coaches are small-time. The only up-side is that the other small-time schools we play are similarly blessed.

    I was handed the camera and instructed to go take pictures of the band. I pointed out to Mrs. A that she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in this week’s pictures from the ones taken last week. She was not amused. Rubbing the bump on the back of my head, I went and took pictures. They turned out pretty good too.

    The redneck is alive and well in Texas. Shoot-fire.

    I was amazed and appalled by the number of lips, eyebrows, tongues, noses and cheeks that the young folks are sporting hardware in these days. To which, I might add (though I shouldn’t), I can only say thank goodness they weren’t showing ALL of their hardware. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know if they’re doing it to stand out or to blend in. I will tell you that it disgusts me while simultaneously fascinating me. Like a train wreck, you don’t want to see, but can’t look away. Then there’s the eight year old boy who has a nice diamond stud in one ear. Makes me want to smack his parents. I can hear my Dad’s voice in my head and I’m not going to share what it’s saying.

    Two words of advice for the teen-aged boy:

    1. When being presented as part of the Homecoming Court, it’s not a good idea, while all eyes are on you, to take the opportunity to spit.

    2. If you must spit, at least make it worthwhile. Do not attempt that little pathetic dribble thing where you have to wipe your chin to make sure none of it got on you. I’m just sayin’.

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