What a shame.
There is a woman at the gym I attend who has one of those 60's hairstyles. She is a normal-looking woman, but looks like she has a basketball for a head. Where did she find a hairstylist old enough to fix her hair this way? Or did she do it herself?
These short people would look a lot better without those tall people next to them.
I wonder who they all are?
What does "Bless his heart" mean?
Whenever I tell someone how old my aged relative is, the response is: "Bless his heart!" uttered in admiration. I guess.
Anyone who has lived long enough is forgiven for everything short of murder.
even though it's the law.
Why should they?
Think about it. Mandatory automobile insurance hurts the poor most.
States with higher poverty rates show a corresponding rise in uninsured drivers.... Simply put, people skirt car insurance when they can’t afford
it.
Nearly 40 years of car insurance mandates — which the insurance industry says have failed to make roads safer or lower auto insurance costs — raise questions about how well such mandates work.
James Taranto takes John Kerry to task for misusing the word "literally."
First of all, remember when they kept telling us how smart Kerry was? The guy doesn't even know how to use the word "literally."
The new mantra about how to sell your house concerns "staging." This is the art of turning your home into something impersonal. It's supposed to look like nobody lives there. Think motel room, or better yet, motel lobby.
Down come the pictures on the refrigerator. Off comes the wallpaper. Personal mementos: rent a storage locker. Antiques and collectibles: in the attic, or a friend's attic if you don't have one. You are allowed to keep your washer and dryer, but all laundry, clean or dirty, must be disposed of.
My experience of buying a home is different. Our first house: all I saw was the little oriental rug and fancy light fixture in the entrance hall, the landing halfway up the stairs with a window revealing sparkling sunshine, the strawberries on the wallpaper in the kitchen. These spoke to me, and I didn't notice until later that the bathrooms had been designed during the Hoover Administration, the stove purchased during Roosevelt's first term,the carpeting was threadbare, and the exterior paint was peeling. We had moved in before we noticed these things, and to make matters worse, the charming Oriental rug--I am allowed to say Oriental, am I not? had been removed by the previous tenant, revealing more shabby carpet.
Our second house featured harvest gold appliances, obviously from the sixties. The bathrooms had blue toilets, which you can't get any more, thank God, unless the sixties look comes back in vogue. The kitchen was papered with sixties daisies in a color similar to the harvest gold appliances, but a bit uglier. The bathrooms featured flocked wallpaper, even on the ceiling.
But it was Mother's Day, and the tableau of the cute young couple who were selling it, their presentable parents, and their winsome five-year-old boy gamboling on the lawn made it look idyllic. Also featured was a sunken garden, which contained an oak tree that must have been there in Alexander Hamilton's time. It gave a sort of secluded, private air to the place. Except in the winter, when the leaves fell off the trees, we had a good view of the Burger King down the road, which sort of diminished the rustic ambiance.
Our present shelter was sold to us because Mr Charm liked the the double green doors and the green trim at the front entrance. I liked the big screened in porch adjoining the patio. I could just imagine it filled with charming wicker furniture and charming guests sitting upon the same. A few potted plants, maybe some hanging ones. Laughter and jollity and good will all around.
We forgot to notice that there was a steep flight of stairs leading up to the second floor. Actually, we failed to notice that there was a second floor. The floors were hideous and there were no cupboards. Most of our kitchenware had to be stowed in the basement, where it resides to this day. The porch is nice, however.
What I'm trying to say is that decisions to buy a house are not based on rational thinking. One couple of our acquaintance were afraid to look at the second floor of the house they were buying because they feared afraid the owners would be annoyed. A friend of mine recently moved into her new house and discovered there was only one drawer in the kitchen.
Choosing a house is sort of like picking up someone cute in a singles bar. He might be the man of your dreams. Or he might be the Boston Strangler.
The Union Army's victory in the Battle of Gettysburg was a turning point in the Civil War. Lincoln delivered his brief but powerful speech while dedicating the cemetery on Nov. 19, 1863.
Why don't I ever get any comments? Is commenting disabled? Or what? Or has this blog become boring?
Nobody even says "boo!"
It's not too early to post the picture of Bush with the "plastic" turkey, a perennial favorite bit of moonbattery. It's been proved over and over that the turkey is real, but that's not the point. The point is:
Bush lied, and people died!
I am just heartsick at the thought of the five terrorists being brought to New York for trial. Quite aside from the problems of providing security and the inconvenience to its citizens, New York will be polluted by their presence there.
This is a politically calculated act, carefully designed to--what? Punish Bush and Cheney? Appease the unappeasable America haters? I cannot even comprehend the mindset that would devise such a loathsome action.
I hope the Republicans will take note of Eric Holder's activities, so when they are in power they can prosecute him for war crimes. They want to keep score? Let's us keep score, too. What goes around comes around.
By Don Marquis.
I should explain that the following was written by archy, a cockroach, who composed by hopping from key to key on a typewriter. He could not operate the shift key, thus no caps. No punctuation, either.
i met a toad
the other day by the name
of warty bliggens
he was sitting under
a toadstool
feeling contented
he explained that when the cosmos
was created
that toadstool was especially
planned for his personal
shelter from sun and rain
thought out and prepared
for him
do not tell me
said warty bliggens
that there is not a purpose
in the universe
the thought is blasphemy
a little more
conversation revealed
that warty bliggens
considers himself to be
the center of the same
universe
the earth exists
to grow toadstools for him
to sit under
the sun to give him light
by day and the moon
and wheeling constellations
to make beautiful
the night for the sake of
warty bliggens
There's more, but you get the idea. Every time I witness our president preening, I am reminded of Warty bliggens.
and well put.
For those that have not been paying attention, Islamofacist terrorists declared War on America in the 1970s. In 2001, we finally declared war on them. As for Israel, these terrorists began their Jihad 1400 years ago. Israel has fought back brilliantly from a military standpoint. Yet from a public relations standpoint, it pains me as a Republican Jew to see the two worst marketed products on the planet be the Republican Party and Israel.
At the gym, being a captive audience while riding the recumbent bicycle, I was treated to an interview with Gorbachev. Yes, that one. The fellow who stood by as the Soviet Union finally self-destructed. I suppose one should be grateful that he didn't turn his thugs loose on the rebellious citizenry. However, I don't know that his advice to President Obama is really of much use.
But there he is, bloviating, dispensing advice, a totally derisory figure who nobody in the world has listened to for oh, two decades. He probably works for a liberal think tank. Or maybe he's a professor at one of the Ivy League universities. He has a little of Al Gore in him, in the sense that he is obviously trying to use words of one syllable in order to be understood by the mental defectives who are citizens of this country.
Obama is a jerk, but he's never been chief jerk of the Soviet Union. All he aspires to be is First Citizen of the World, a kind of Pontifex Maximus --he does like to pontificate--or maybe Senior Class President. With him, it's difficult to know.
I keep getting e-mails from Townhall.com, full of articles by right-wing fanatics like myself, asking me to subscribe to their magazine.
I'm never gonna do it.
Why? Because this site continually features articles by Pat Buchanan, a barely-disguised anti-Semite whose views are anathema to me.
The left (generally) pays lip service to Israel and to Zionist causes. They may express sympathy for the suffering of the Palestinians, and carry on about the so-called "Peace Process," but generally come out in favor of Israel's right to exist. Right-wingers like Pat Buchanan, however, are full of ominous mutterings about undue Jewish influence. Jewish conspiracy theories! I wish!
The views of Buchanan, along with the often voiced opinion on the Christian right that we are all going straight to hell if we don't acknowledge Jesus, are enough to offset all the good will of all the Christian groups who wish Israel well.
Add this to the natural impulse of people who have experienced discrimination to feel for the underprivileged and minorities, and you have a group of people who gravitate to the Democrats. Not me, of course. I don't care for a party that considers Che Guevara hip, cool, and groovy.
and "gender studies" are just plain idiotic.
So over at Depaul University - allegedly a college - students and faculty are up in hairy arms over the denial of tenure to Melissa Bradshaw, a professor of "women's and gender studies." In case you don't know what tenure is, it's a guaranteed lifetime job. And in case you don't know what "women's and gender studies" are, join the club - neither do I.
And here we have a magnificent collision of two idiotic practices: tenure, which relieves professors of trying altogether, allowing them instead to pursue ideas that would fail miserably in a world of measurable achievement; and gender studies, a fuzzy field where earnest types angrily analyze the "phenomenon of gender." Usually while wearing underwear made from hemp.
1. Dig out the instruction booklet for my clothes steamer and figure out how to use it.
2. Weigh myself every day.
3. Stop eating chocolate.
4. Get liposuction. (Unless I stop eating chocolate, drinking chocolate, thinking about chocolate.)
5. Clean out the closet in the spare room.
6. Weed my shoe collection.
7. Match every single sock in the drawer to its mate or throw it out.
8. Look up algorythm. Read the definition. Understand it. Memorize it.
I'm tired. Making out this list has exhausted me. I need some chocolate to restore my energy. Consider it medicinal.
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