The Drama of the Umbrellas
This post is at Tery's insistence. She is watching the dedication ceremony of Bill Clinton's library in Little Rock. It is raining and all the dignitaries have umbrellas. All of them, that is, except for George Bush, who was making Laura hold hers over his head. Or try to, at least. Being two inches shorter, her umbrella was more often poking into the side of his head. He temporarily took refuge under the more statuesque Chelsea Clinton's until perhaps realizing how inappropriate that looked, then reached over to Laura's handle. Tery thought maybe he would do the gentlemanly thing and hold it for her, but no, he just made her lift it up higher, the poor woman's circulation be damned. Tery noticed Jimmy Carter going to great lengths to clear rain water off his wife's seat before she sat down. George, not so much. Looks like he is Christian in every sense of the word, right down to treating his wife like property. Later he FINALLY got his own umbrella and held it so aggressively in Laura's space she was forced to tilt hers backwards to make room. Still later they panned back to include the entire stage and Bush was holding his umbrella noticeably higher than anyone else's, as if subconsciously reinforcing his position. I get the feeling if he had his way his umbrella would be royal blue with the presidential seal emblazoned on it in neon colors. What a complete and total ass.
The commentators were even worse. They were talking about presidents wearing suits and ties at all times to command respect (which Clinton didn't do) and I was reminded of that Log Cabin Republican who thought Carter wearing sweaters in the Oval Office was about the most shocking thing he'd ever seen. They were also discussing religious values and I commented how disturbing I find the regularity with which religion and politics are now mentioned in the same sentence these days. Clearly we aren't even pretending to worry about that pesky "separation of church and state" clause our founding fathers set down. Tery and I agreed we'd rather have a president who enjoyed the occasional blowjob to clear his head to focus on important decisions than one who talked to God instead of his own cabinet.
Oooh! Oooh! And U2! Poor Chelsea had to move about four times to see around the old men that all stood up to see Bono. *sigh* Bono..... I would kill to have an Irish accent like his. He added a new verse about world peace to the end of "Sunday Bloody Sunday" that Bush strategically chatted through so he didn't have to be preached to. It's okay, Georgie. No one can teach you anything new. You know everything already.
In nonpresidential affairs, we finally got around to seeing Mean Girls last night, probably the funniest movie I've seen all year. Kind of like Heathers meets "Harriet the Spy." Janis and Damian, the token outcasts, were the cool friends I wish I had in high school. The script was smart and the depiction of high school cliques was dead-on. Just when the movie couldn't get any higher in my esteem, they threw in a Xena battle cry. That did it. I am soooo buying this one.
The commentators were even worse. They were talking about presidents wearing suits and ties at all times to command respect (which Clinton didn't do) and I was reminded of that Log Cabin Republican who thought Carter wearing sweaters in the Oval Office was about the most shocking thing he'd ever seen. They were also discussing religious values and I commented how disturbing I find the regularity with which religion and politics are now mentioned in the same sentence these days. Clearly we aren't even pretending to worry about that pesky "separation of church and state" clause our founding fathers set down. Tery and I agreed we'd rather have a president who enjoyed the occasional blowjob to clear his head to focus on important decisions than one who talked to God instead of his own cabinet.
Oooh! Oooh! And U2! Poor Chelsea had to move about four times to see around the old men that all stood up to see Bono. *sigh* Bono..... I would kill to have an Irish accent like his. He added a new verse about world peace to the end of "Sunday Bloody Sunday" that Bush strategically chatted through so he didn't have to be preached to. It's okay, Georgie. No one can teach you anything new. You know everything already.
In nonpresidential affairs, we finally got around to seeing Mean Girls last night, probably the funniest movie I've seen all year. Kind of like Heathers meets "Harriet the Spy." Janis and Damian, the token outcasts, were the cool friends I wish I had in high school. The script was smart and the depiction of high school cliques was dead-on. Just when the movie couldn't get any higher in my esteem, they threw in a Xena battle cry. That did it. I am soooo buying this one.