Hasty Ruminations

So this perv in Portland, OR, pushes an 88 year old woman into her house. And he’s naked.

She doesn’t know him, so as he keeps pushing against her, she reaches around and grabs his crotch.

And squeezes.

Hard.

He runs outside, screaming. Later he is picked up by the cops (gingerly) after she reports him.

The lady is ok.

Cops say his name is Michael G. Dick.

Yeah, right. Like I believe that.

Don McLean was a poet first, and then a folk singer, in my opinion.

I offer these lyrics for “Vincent” (Starry, Starry Night) to Sandy Carlson and her friend. It is incredibly sad. Perhaps we can draw a higher meaning, for the children, at least.

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer’s day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they’ll listen now.

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they’ll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.
Like the strangers that you’ve met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they’re not listening still.
Perhaps they never will…

When The New York Daily News asked if Bush’s tax cuts on the wealthy should be repealed immediately, Caroline Kennedy, would be Senate seat inheritor from NY, said:

“Well, you know, that’s something, obviously, that, you know, in principle and in the campaign, you know, I think that, um, the tax cuts, you know, were expiring and needed to be repealed.”

Oh, please.  Didn’t we just finish, like, the longest darn political campaign like in HIStory, and now it’s starting all over again?  With a person whose sentence structure hasn’t changed since, like, seventh grade?!

Give us a, you know, break already.

I have figured it out.

Governor Rod Blagojevich is hiding only one thing.

It has nothing to do with Obama’s Senate seat, or multiple nefarious governator dealings he surely was involved in. No, he is not trying to hide those at all.

He has a scar on his forehead. It’s a dollar $ign.  Some guy named Voldemort did it.

That’s why he wears his hair in such a weird way.

We’re talking some serious hair spray here.

Or maybe the company that makes the football helmets for the Bears threw in a custom wig for Rodney. As a “donation”.

It got up to 59 degrees Farenheit in Lincoln, NE, today!

Why am I inside?!

I gotta take Lacy for a long walk, and I will grill some Omaha steaks outside tonight!

Now THAT’s a nice Christmas Gift, Lord!

Paris Hilton is a waste of time.

She kept over $2 million worth of jewelry in her bedroom?

She didn’t care enough to lock it up, so now it’s gone.

Fully insured, no doubt.

She isn’t worth it. Even her eyes are wrong.

OPEC cuts oil production to prop up the price.

This, of course, is illegal collusion in a world market.

Wars have been started this way.

Come to think of it, we have a big army near the oil fields. And we have stealth bombers which can carry nukes in to the oil fields quietly, secretly.

Something to think about with a president who has no historic credibility anyway.

“Doctors at the Cleveland Clinic performed a near-total face transplant on a horribly disfigured woman who lived like an outcast because of her face. They also grafted on facial nerves and muscles so the woman’s new face functions – and is not just a mask.”

I dated a woman from Cleveland once. It could have been her. I remember being devastatingly ill the whole evening.

George Bush now has another pair of shoes to wear in retirement, and

the Iraqi journalist has doubled his math skills.

Now, he can count to twenty.