Forget for a minute that Sarah Barracuda was mayor of Wasilla, Alaska – population Meth heads, and concentrate more on her role in yet another Bush Policy failure. Abstinence Only! Say what you want about the conservative mantra of saving taxpayers money by eliminating wasteful spending programs, but Team Bush sure poured in a lot of cash into promoting Just Say No to Intercourse! Billions of dollars, actually. Internationally, aid to developing countries was held up until they agreed to spread the word about no more booty calls. Health classes throughout these United States, and perhaps Alaska, taught students not to “round third.” George W. was the third base coach giving the “hold sign.”

So why didn’t it work for Bristol Barracuda and thousands of other teenagers in this country? Well, teenagers, like most Americans, neither approve of or listen to anything George W. promotes. Which is also why we can’t get their pimply faces to join the Army, either.

Kids in Wasilla or Anchorage are no different than kids in Newark, New Jersey, except that they’re whiter and use more Crystal Meth per capita. Even kids of Chief Executives like the Moose Hunter have tattoos (Track has one of Jesus on his calf! – yeah, one for our team!) And they also sometimes succumb to the raging hormones that make an asshole jock with a mullet and a Bullet for my Valentine t-shirt seem like a perfect choice to be your baby’s daddy.

So, yes, let’s not attack Bristol for being a teenager, let’s attack her for being a congregant of the Assemblies of God Church. Holy shit, what a bunch of freaks!

Seriously, Jeremiah Wright, god bless his crazy ass, never said anything nearly as oddball as Sarah Barracuda’s pastor. Not only do Assembly of God preachers want to see the End of Days, but Pastor Frozen Nuts sees Alaska as a safe haven for the true believers. That’s assuming they don’t get called up in the Rapture. Also, they preach about Iraq as a “Holy War.” They speak in tongues, they roll around on the floor and they hate the gays. You know, real Americana stuff.

So, if you’re keeping score at home, the son of an immigrant who earned a Ph.D. and a single mom who also earned a Ph. D., a student of the best schools in America, President of Harvard Law Review, a faithful husband and father of two, an author, a Senator and a well-spoken, thoughtful intelligent leader is less American than a slack-jawed, Moose-eating, Left Behind-listening on tape, baby machine. Only in America! Well, unless Barracuda gets her way and Alaska secedes from the U.S.

Wow, think about that: President of Alaska! Then she really would have to engage in diplomacy with Russia. (Helpful Hint for Sarah Barracuda: look in to Putin’s eyes, you can really SEE his soul.)

I accept. When Joe Biden asked me to be his running mate those were only the words that came to mind. When he clarified that by “running mate” he meant “a cup of coffee” I still accepted. You see, I still believe in the immortal words of that one Kennedy dude who said, “Ask not for your country. But ask for a chicken in every pot. Ich bin ein Berliner.”

This year’s Democratic National Convention has made that point abundantly clear: we are all Berliners. Whether we are wearing funny hats on the convention floor or whether we are arguing with Chris Matthews about Barack Obama being a Muslim, we are Berliners. Whether we are the Obama children hamming it up with their declarations of love or Hillary Clinton pleading with her Jim Jones-like followers to try another Kool Aid, we are Berliners. Whether we are former Virginia Governor Mark Warner wondering how big a lead we would have over John McCain had we been able to get a few delegates or whether we are Jon Stewart trying to appear satiric when clearly we are in our glory, we are Berliners.

So enjoy it folks, because by the time the Republican National Convention takes place it’s going to feel Old Timey again. And by “Old Timey” I mean, Jim Crow Laws. Yikes.

Speaking of Jim Crow, why has the word “muslim” become tantamount to calling someone a terrorist? We do all know that every Muslim isn’t a terrorist, right? Right? The cable “news” Idiocrats all like to associate “muslim” as a pejorative implying terrorism. In fact our own home grown Goebbels, Pat Buchanan and Karl Rove, like to keep beating a drum that says Americans will not vote for a man with a “muslim” sounding name. Well, Democrats sure voted for him, so I guess that makes them not Americans.

I am a Berliner.

Hey, are you in the market for an exciting roman a clef about drumming for the mob? Then buy my friend Frank’s book “Drummer for the Mob,” and read all about the real life exploits of a mob drummer. You can purchase the book at www.DrummerforTheMob.com . You’ll be glad you did.

Since John McCain has started referring to Barack Obama as “The One,” I just assumed FOX News would dub him “The Dark Knight” in a cross promotional effort. I was wrong. The New Yorker did.

How good is “The Dark Knight?” How many angels cry on the head of a pin when you sew on a button? Stop asking stupid questions. It’s great. Tony the Tiger great. It is everything you expect from a Christopher Nolan movie: overdose of atmosphere, anti-heroes, ethics and morality turned on their heads, and then someone dies. And to make it better than other movies, it has Heath Ledger getting all method with his inner Joker. No wonder the guy was partying with Mary Kate Olsen prior to his accidental overdose. Playing a psychopath as well as he did probably made him want to spend time with the entire “Full House” cast just to feel squeaky clean again.

Obviously something affected the cast of “The Dark Knight.” First Ledger OD’s and then Christian Bale beats up his Mom and sister. Oh, and then Morgan Freeman gets into a near-fatal car accident. Will somebody please check on Aaron Eckhart and Maggie Gyllenhal? I wouldn’t worry so much about Michael Caine. I’m sure he’s using that exquisite and discerning taste of his to begin filming a Mr. Bean classic or something with Larry the Cable Guy.

But back to the presidential race, if I may. The super moronic issue of the day concerns whether or not to let oil companies drill for imaginary oil off the coasts of every state that has a coast. The argument FOR is that it is “our” oil, which will “end” our “dependence” on foreign oil. I am all for that argument, assuming we are going to get all Socialist with “our” oil. I mean, if we the people are going to own that oil, and all other oil procured within our country, then let the drilling begin. But if coastal drilling means letting multi-national corporations like British Petroleum take all the black gold they want and then sell it to China and India, then not so much.

Again, how is this forward thinking for an energy crisis? This is a Bush answer to a complex question. If his ice cream dish is empty, then get him more ice cream. Problem solved. “But all of the cows are dead, Mr. President.” “Then look for cows on the bottom of the ocean.” See, it just doesn’t work.

For once, and really just this once, why can’t Republicans listen to their super rich bastard uncle, T. Boone Pickins, who would like to see energy harvested from wind power. I realize it is a sensible idea, however, I’m not sure I like the fact that a multi-billionaire is going to own all of the wind. Couldn’t he just buy a baseball team?

Hello, Newman. Yeah, that’s me and lead New Pornographer Carl Newman. I was waiting for my gal pal, Neko Case to finish her shower and come outside and sign an autograph when I ran into Carl. Funny thing is that not visible to this photo is police tape around our waists. Apparently, someone had been stabbed but scant moments before we took this picture.

Carl wasn’t as engaging as I would have hoped a pornographer, new or old, would be. He didn’t want to discuss hockey (I didn’t either but I thought I was throwing his Canadian ass a bone), he didn’t want to talk music (though he claimed to really love The National) and he really didn’t want to go and get Neko for me. Even after I told him that I was one of about (sorry, aboot) 37 people who had purchased his solo CD.

Oh, well, at least they put on a great show, even without Dan Bejar. And speaking of great shows, her Mims and I took in one of the final shows of The Police, who in 2 short years have earned $350,000,000 promoting albums that were recorded in the early 80s. Having seen the Police twice before, and having paid 10% of the current face value of  ticket then, I have to say that the old blokes still know how to rock. My only complaint might be that Sting occassionally would veer off into Dave Matthews jam band jazz, but Stewart Copeland was there to bang him back into a rock show. Plus, for a 65-year-old geezer, Andy Summers still shreds the ole carrot. Opening act Elvis Costello and the Imposters started their set 10 minutes early, but I think it’s because they had a lot to say. Elvis mixed a nice blend of old classics and new stuff, and even had Herr Stinger join him for a duet of “Allison,” a song about Allison Janney from “The West Wing.” All in all, it was worth taking money from a shylock to pay for it. Hope my knees recover in time for the New Order reunion.

We’ll be back after these public service announcements.

John McCain’s thumbs are the Northwest Angle, Minnesota of his limb extension, that is they are the highest point (at least in the continental U.S.) he can hit. Any why is McCain beaming anyway? He admits he doesn’t know much about the economy, he doesn’t know a Shiite from a Sunni from Shinola, he refers to his ATM machine wife as a c-word and he admitted that he doesn’t know how to use a computer. Doesn’t know how to use a computer? This is the man who will lead us during the Information Age? As long as he has his nap.

But McCain has every reason to flash those gnarly choppers, he’s still in this race. Of course, I predicted he’d be our next president a year and a half ago but I thought I was joking. Really? Goose-Iceman-Maverick-Hoss McCain is picking up steam. He is basically running on one issue: racism. But it’s a good one. And the right wing symphony strikes up the band everyday to play a little Chicago Blues, just in case the zombies forget that Mac is running against a black guy.

And poor Obama, God Bless him the next time he sneezes, but every time he tries to remind us that he’s Jeffersonian the media compares him to George and Weezie. Goin’ move himself up to deluxe apartment on Pennsylvania Avenue. Sho’ Can!

As for me, well, I’ve received the endorsement of 80s L.A. punk rock icon and “Blade Runner” replicant, Billy Zoom of the seminal band X. The boys (John Doe, DJ Bonebrake and Billy) reconfigured the band along with Viggo Mortensen’s ex-wife, Exene Cervenka and are touring the world and beyond. In fact, look for them off the moons of Saturn.

Actually, if you get the chance you’ll want to see this version of X. They are only playing songs from their first 4 records and they are only playing them as awesome as they can. And if you forget that they aren’t that much younger than John McCain, it makes the show that much better. Of course, vodka also helps.

On a personal note, though, Billy Zoom stole my Sharpie just after he autographed the Long-Player I brought, theme from “Flashdance.” OMG, I love that record. I like to wear cut-off sweatshirts and pour water on myself. No, actually, he signed his Zoom Hancock on “Wild Gift,” and I’m taking offers on Ebay.

The new CD from The Hold Steady, or as I call them, mommy, I mean, God, comes out on Tuesday, and let me tell you it is clearly the record to beat this year. Incredible! Or as they say en francaise, “Incredible!” When a band has the kiwis to steal a guitar solo from Manfred Mann’s version of “Blinded by the Light” and make it sound shred-a-licious. Pre-order today!!!

See you at the All-Star Game. Go ‘roids!!!!

P.S. I just fixed my exclamation point button!!!

However, they do pick British Sea Power out of a line-up every time. I am, of course, referring to the band from Brighton, England, British Sea Power, who play an extremely loud version of Brit-Power-Pop with just the slightest traces of twee thrown into the mix. Unfortunately, for our ears, BSP brought an arena-sized show to a sparsely populated beer hall. Unfortunately for us (myself, Her Mims, Etouffe and my friend Christian, who may be a Muslim) also, they dispensed with wearing their traditional British Navy garb. The brothers Wilkinson, Yan and Hamilton (their noms de guerre) performed in odd head gear. Yan wore an Axel Rose head scarf/ disheki and Hamilton wore a tinfoil helmet. Everything went eardrum-smashingly well until their final number, known only as “A” on the set list. They ended in a noise jam that went on for about 30 minutes too long that included guitarist Martin Noble joining the crowd and having people “jump rope” with his amp cord (including our possible Muslim chum, Christian.) Noble also pulled a microphone and stand into the waning crowd and encouraged people to shout into it. More tedious than enjoyable, it also meant no obligatory encore. Opening act, The Rosebuds, put on a spirited show as well. The husband/wife team from North Carolina even managed to put a little Phil Collins into their Zombies-inspired organ pop. It was pleasing to all, except Etouffe, who is irrationally afraid of zombies. Set opener, Jeffrey Lewis has friends in high places.

Hailing from the coastal town of Brighton, England, BSP sings a lot about environmental issues. Download “Larson B” immediately. In fact, buy all of their CDs. You can’t go wrong. Here are Yan and Hamilton performing:

* Apologies for the Monty Python para-phrase.

If you’re only going to see one movie this week, then speed walk to your nearest omniplex to catch Indiana Jones and the Search for Spock’s Crystal Skull. The movie is the latest Lucas/Spielberg collaboration that involves Indiana Jones, space aliens, greasers and Ewoks (sort of – yub yub.) It has been 19 years since the last Indiana Jones movie, but the 65-year-old Harrison Ford (pictured with co-star Karen Allen outside the Capitol) is up for the task of playing an action star. He beats up Russians, he out runs bullets and an atomic bomb, he survives 3 waterfalls and even smacks Beowulf around. He even finds out he’s Shia the Beef’s daddy-o. Spoiler alert! (Oh, wait, is that supposed to go in front of the spoiled news?) Anyway, the implausible plot does nothing to detract from the fun movie that breezes along at around 5 hours. And by implausible, I mean, a tenured professor gets pushed out of a university? Really? On what planet?

Hey, this movie is the perfect cure for those high gas prices? How? You have to drive to an air-conditioned theater. Dammit! I forget about that. Anyway, it is a fun little action flick and Ford is still a delight in a fedora.

They (Fox News) say old people don’t matter anymore. Well, Harrison Ford proves them (Fox News) wrong. And by the way, didn’t Hillary “win” Indiana? Just checking.

It only took presumptive Democratic Nominee Barack Muhammad Ali Obama 1 day to respond to an allegation from George W. Bush that he would “appease” terrorists in the same manner that France “appeased” Hitler. Obama called the “President’s” remarks “fear-mongering” and “incorrect.” At last count, it has been 1,320 days since John Kerry did not respond to George W. Bush’s assertions that he would “hug” Osama Bin Laden if given a chance to meet the 9/11 mastermind in a San Francisco bath house. So there you have it: Obama is a better candidate for president than John Forbes Kerry. Hoozah.

Interestingly, though, we at le Philistine just recently found out that this is actually actor Dennis Haysbert and not presumptive Democratic nominee, Barack Rumi Obama. In our defense, they are both in a lot of television commercials which we usually mute. It was a less than honest mistake and we apologize. Hopefully this will make both Mrs. Haysbert and Mrs. Obama proud of America. Oops. That’s All State’s stand.

Finally, this note from our Hollywood Bureau. “Iron Man” continues to “steel” the box office receipts and Robert Downey, Jr. continues to elude police. We can only assume this new success in his film career has lead the troubled actor back into the arms of Lady C - the El Grande Cocaina. Best of luck, Bobby. We anticipate you being replaced in “Iron Man II: The Search for Spock” by Matthew Perry.

From Anna Nicole’s dream ride to Britney’s skin head to Tom Brady’s love child, 2007 was quite “amazing.” Or, at least, that is how it has been described. Never one to put hyperbole on the backburner, Hollywood elite, political effete and the vapid-minded everywhere chose one word over every other as the go-to adjective to describe their meals, their children, their visits to Darfur and, especially, their “journeys” – be they of self-discovery or otherwise. “Amazing.” Once a word used to describe grace, has now bounced into the lexicon of impact catch-all. How can one sum up the totality of feelings, thoughts and spirit that goes into living each and every moment? “Amazing.”

When asked to comment about being named lephilistine Word of the Year, Amazing said, “Phenomenal.” Uh-oh.

Speaking of amazing, look who almost accepted my proposal of marriage: Neko Case. Wowwee! Actually, I was, to the mortification of her Mims, starstruck. I couldn’t speak. Only one other time was I such a bumbling fool in front of a celebrity. I met the late, great short story writer Raymond Carver after a lecture and could only say, “me. like. words.” I even offered him some Johnny Walker Red if he would just join me at my Chevette. Which was a classy move because he was a recovering alcoholic at the time. In my defense, I was only 19 and offering writers scotch seemed like the right thing to do.

But back to Neko. There comes a time in the life of every stalker when the synergy of obsessed fan and well-meaning celebrity come together to form the perfect cheer. She certainly put on one of the great shows of 2007. With backing band the Sadies and best friend/ back-up singer Kelly Hogan (and wanna stand-up) she did a 2-hour set at a refurbished old-timey theatre that was a delight from beginning to why-did-it-have-to end. Ah, at least I got a clump of her auburn locks before security tazed me, bro.

Of course, 2007 will most certainly be remembered for producing 20 presidential candidates all of whom spent much of the year underwhelming the electorate. Well, 19 of them. Ron Paul actually picked up a large swath of the lunatic fringe who seemed to be enthralled by his crazy old man theatrics. “Get off my lawn.” I have been seeing Ron Paul bumper stickers and yard signs all over my city for nearly a year, and our primary isn’t until the end of April. What gives? I know pot-heads support anyone who claims to be a Libertarian, but come on. How can Paul be a Libertarian when he doesn’t support women’s reproductive rights? Plus, he doesn’t accept Evolution as fact. So he bitches about Iraq. So what. So does Ben Affleck but nobody is voting him. They aren’t, are they?

We are not quite at the half way mark yet, but I’m starting to look like quite the genius for predicting a President McCain last May. Of course, lost in the all of the hoopla of America voting for a woman, an African-American or someone with mental illness, is the fact that yet again no one is voting for an Italian-American. What gives? Italian-Americans have given so much to this country: Jersey, Vegas, the best parts of the Rat Pack, concrete, organized labor, quality knock-off designer clothes and accessories. Why no votes for compadre Rudy?

Sure, a lot can be said about Rudy only campaigning in Florida and ignoring every other state, but I say “fungol!” This prince, who stood up to the terrorists on 9/11 by holding up a bullhorn at ground zero earned our respect. And if we’re not going to elect someone whom we respect, then who the hell are we going to elect? Capeche?

Which brings us to Barack Hussein Al Jazeera Sultan Sinbad Obama. What a wind bag! And I mean that in the best possible sense. “We are the Change!” Which is so much better than “We are the World.” “We are the Change We can be.” Says it all, folks. Well, we can’t be some other kind of change, can we? That’s just stupid. “Can you make Change for a twenty?” Oh, I know that trick. I live in an urban neighborhood.

But if you’re like me, rich and handsome and sick of politics (ask me about my grandkids!), then a diversion is in order. No, I’m not talking about a heroin addiction. It’s white water rafting down the Rio Grande! That’s her Mims and me traveling through New Mexico with a boat load of Old Mexicans. Damn, those border guards are right. You can just fish them right out of the river.

Funny thing about our rafting adventure. Our guide told us that she’s never “crashed” into the obstacle in the river known as “Big Rock.” Appropriately named because it is a huge, friggin’ rock right in the middle of a particularly tricky rapid. As they say, there’s always a first for everything. We hit it with such a concussive force that I dropped my martini. Fortunately, like a St. Bernard, I always keep a keg tied to my neck. Soon, cocktails were poured for all.

Of course, another tried and true diversion is picking on aging punk rockers. Here I am holding John Doe’s feet to the fire. I know, it looks like Ettouffee took the picture as he was falling down. Point is, Doe had a lot to answer for. I asked why he “trashed” Kathleen Edwards, who sings back up on his latest CD “A Year in the Wilderness.” Doe said he didn’t, but that some members of his touring bands didn’t like her first record. So he literally through his tour bus under the bus.

I also repeated a question that I’d asked him years earlier about which X album was his favorite. He started to say “Los Angeles” and then switched to “Under the Big Black Sun,” when I reminded him that he’d previously said “See How We Are.” He said, “Yeah, that’s good too,” or some such nonsense. Anyway, he still puts on a great live show if you’re in to those sorts of things.

But you know who does not put on good live shows? Critics’ darlings Feist and Ryan Adams, that’s who. The Fiest show was particularly disappointing because opening band Rogue Wave actually had the crowd at the fancy schmancy music hall revved up. Feist, however, seemed contented to lullaby everyone to sleepy time. Ryan Adams, on the other hand, seemed hell bent on annoying his fans with strange Allman Brothers like arrangements of his songs and Grateful Dead guitar jams that would have made the late Michael O’Donoghue want to drive 10” spikes into his eyes.

Oh, well. At least Wilco still knows how to put on a great live show. And now that the line up sometimes boast 4 guitarists including guitar god, Nels Cline, it’s like watching the alt-country version of Deep Purple. Because they tour endlessly, you have no reason not to see them soon.

Unfortunately, someone you will no longer be able to see perform is Drew Glackin, bass player for the Silos and multi-instrumentalist for other bands. Drew had an undiagnosed thyroid condition that lead to severe heart disease which eventually lead to death at the untimely age of 43. I saw him playing with the in alt-country band Tandy a few years back and then introduced myself at a Silos show. He was a genuinely nice guy and great musician. If you’re going to be in Austin, Texas in mid-March, please attend the 2 scheduled tribute shows planned or go to Silos.com and make a contribution to his memorial fund.

Heath Ledger also died and I’m going to go out on a phantom limb and predict that he’ll win a posthumous Best Supporting Actor Award at the 2009 Academy Awards for his portrayal of the Joker in Chris Nolan’s “Batman Returns.” Yes, you can wager on it via paypal.

Since I haven’t written anything in so long for lePhilistine, as you’ve no doubt noticed, what could I possibly have been doing with my time, besides running for President? Well, I started reading comic books again. Yeah, I know. Save all the middle-aged nerd jokes. I seem to recall Lord of the Rings: Return of the King winning a Best Picture Oscar. Plus, I am doing research for a graphic novel that I’m writing. At least, that’s what I told my accountant.

Anyway, I bought this copy of Marvel Teams Up featuring Spiderman and Deathlok at Eide’s Records and Comics store. The funny thing is that I’m pretty sure that it’s the same copy I sold to Eide’s over 20 years ago. The other funny slash stupid thing is that I think I paid the same amount for which I sold it to them. Hey, I don’t go around telling everyone how to run their business, but how about at least a storage fee?

My sister (gabbonesso.com) has sort-of resurrected Ha Ha! At the Club Café on Friday nights occasionally. My contribution was The Rantings of a Repeat Offender, which can be read somewhere on this site. Let’s just say the audience held back their laughter enough to make me rethink making this a steady feature.

Speaking of audiences, Her Mims just rapped up a production of “Amadeus” at the Public. Here she is playing Mrs. Salieri along with Tony Abatemarco as Salieri. Kudos and Huzzahs to all involved. What a delight! If ever a play should have a sequel, this has to be the one. Think about it: what other trouble could that crazy Italian composer get into? Rich with possibilities.

Well, that’s enough for now. Please visit the music page to become outraged with my Top 20 choices for 2007. Sorry, but I call ‘em like I hears ‘em. Maroon 5 was clearly CD of the Year. In a parallel universe, that is.

Live Free or Don’t!

Shit. Back in this dump. Ain’t no way I’m gonna see “Idol” tonight. American Idol. Greatest country in the world. You gotta problem with that, Osama Hey Zeus, or whatever the hell your name is. This is Steeler country, man. You got that? Even my jail cell is Steeler country. Got me a Terrible towel dou-vay cover. Woo. Steelers. Sucks I’m in jail, though.

Can’t blame my public defender this time. Nope, he told me I was going back to jail. Still, I shouldn’t have pushed him over the desk in front of Judge Judy. But what the piss? Why’d he have to tell her I had rage issues. What kind of argument is that?

I told him to say I ain’t paying my child support ‘cause I’m not even sure those kids is mine. I mean, she already had Tito before I even met her. How come I gotta pay? And she was pregnant with Darlina after our second date. Fuzzy math, man. It don’t add up.

Plus, I’m not even sure I like women, you know what I’m sayin’? Like how come I keep ending up back in jail all the time? It ain’t co-ed or nothing. Plus that big guard said I’m a good kisser. My ex never paid me a compliment. Never told me I smelled pretty or that I looked good in my MacDonald’s uniform. Would it kill her to notice. Especially in front of the children.

Damn kids. Now I’m gonna have to pay like back support. What about my support. You know I’m gonna get demoted back to fries. Shit, I was an assistant manager. I got free refills anytime I wanted. ‘Nother Dr. Pepper? Hell, yes. Fry boy doesn’t get those kind of perks.

Still, I guess them kids are cute and all. Even if they don’t look like me. They spent 2 weeks with my mom and me over Christmas ‘cause BobbyJo went to Mexico with Howard. My mom made so many cookies those kids grew little pot bellies. They looked like cute little pot bellied pigs. ‘Cept Darlina cried when I said she looked like a pot bellied pig. And I was gonna hit her but my mom said maybe she’s crying ‘cause I called her mama a pig for going to Mexico with Howard.

So I said “fine” and I slammed the door and went to Woody’s to have a few rum and cokes with the boys. Too much estrogen in that house anyway. 3 year olds have a lot of that stuff. And don’t get me started on my mom.

She spent the whole 2 weeks yelling at me for beating Tito on the Xbox and eating cookies. Can I help it if I’m a superstar at blowing away zombies and Nazis and Zelda. Damn, I was all over that little shit. Me and the joy stick was one. I was like, Zoom, Pow, Zap. I don’t care if cookie crumbs got all over her precious couch. I was Del Fuego, man. I said, why can’t your stinky little dog eat up them crumbs. Which was stupid ‘cause that dog died 2 years ago on Christmas. Shit.

She started hitting me so hard with her electric broom and yelling that I blacked out. She was carrying on so much that the neighbors must have called the police. And guess who they hauled off to jail? Yeah, that’s right. An outstanding warrant on an old mari-juanita charge. Boo yah!

Of course, the public defender I had that time got me out ‘cause it was Christmas. I was just like that Scrooge son-of-a-bitch. I was like, boy, what day is today? And this dumb looking kid says, it’s day 8 of Chaunakah. And I was like, damn, the angels made me miss Christmas. But they didn’t ‘cause my mom made a ham and more cookies. She even bought me a sweater. Which was nice ‘cause I didn’t get her nothing since my wages had been garnished.

And now I’m back in here for 3 months. How will I ever pass the time? Guess I’ll head down to the gym and see if anybody wants to spot me. Hope Big Guard’s working today.

THE END

How Ostracized Students Have Replaced Disgruntled Postal Workers as the Number One Threat to Americans

As anyone who watches nature shows on the Discovery Channels or Animal Planet knows, death comes brutally served in the animal world by ferocious predators looking for a meal. In the human world of the United States, however, death is now being frequently served by poindexters, geeks and graduate assistants. Add the Valentine’s Day massacre at Northern Illinois University by graduate student Steven Kazmierczak as yet another reason to remain too cool for school What is the root cause of shootings at schools? Cost of tuition, heavy work load, no friends. At a junior high in Oxnard, California, a 15 year-old student was shot and killed by a 14 year-old classmate for being gay. Not because the 15 year-old hit on him, just because he didn’t like gay people. Used to be a time when students only killed each other because they didn’t like Mondays.

A concerned parent in Oxnard proclaimed that both boys were victims? Really? Because only one of them is wearing pennies on his eyes.

In this day and age, there’s a place for extreme levels of testosterone and bullets, it’s called hip hop. No, actually, it’s called Iraq. And doesn’t Bush always say “we’re fighting them there so we don’t have to educate them here.” Or some such nonsense. For hundreds of years, joining the military has been a safe haven for young, gun-toting men who just want to tussle. It still is the perfect antidote for not liking school.

But aren’t school shootings isolated incidents like bear attacks? Not really. Just a day after the NIU shootings and about 45 minutes from the Virginia Tech rampage of last year, classes at Ferrum College were cancelled because of an armed student prowling campus. Less than a week later, a gunman was picked up at North Dakota State University as well as at East Central Community College in Mississippi. Hell, Baghdad U. might be a safer place to be.

And those are just the colleges and universities. Is anyone forgetting Columbine, Little Rock or Mitchell High in Memphis where a student was gunned down just 2 weeks ago? Why can’t Johnny read? More like, why can’t Johnny breathe?

Do we count on increased security and metal detectors to do the job, or do we place a greater emphasis on psychological evaluations? Students at Penn State University would like to take matters into their own hands. They have petitioned the university to allow students to carry concealed weapons in order to prevent attacks in classrooms.

That’s right: the solution to dealing with armed students is to arm the students. Archie Bunker once suggested that the way to stop planes from being hijacked was to arm all the passengers. “Let’s roll.” Of course, the gun-nut answer is always more guns not less. It’s like the designated hitter rule in American League baseball. Why play defense when you can add more offense. It’s like a Surge for American classrooms. And I think we know how successful that’s been. Seriously, don’t we know?

Maybe the answer is as simple as What Would Abe Lincoln Do? Honest Abe didn’t waste a lot of time at no fancy university. He just lit a whale oil lamp or a buffalo lard candle and read until his eyes got crusty. Home schooling has yet to result in one school shooting. And for our college students there are always the non accredited online universities like Strayer, Phoenix and Bob Jones. Don’t you feel safer already?

Another solution might be mood inducers or mood inhibitors in our drinking water just like fluoride and calcium. Wouldn’t you rather have a classroom of zombies than shooters? True, zombies eat brains but they move slowly and are easy to recognize. If only that were true of bears.