Item 1: The other day I wrote about “Pochie,” a local female citizen who beat the daylights out of a home intruder by hitting him repeatedly over the head with a 10” pot. Less than week later, our city boasts another triumph of evil over good by the weaker sex who showed no mercy when confronting an uninvited bad guy. Early Saturday morning, she awoke to see a figure lurking outside her bedroom. She made her way through her house and met Mr. Unlucky at the door, where she fired her .38 revolver at him as he ran for his life. Wow, we’ve got some tough ladies here. Must be that historical (hysterical?) Hoosier pioneer prairie spirit still alive and kicking in this college town.
Item 2: Barack Obama, on Meet the Press October 22, explaining why he said President Bush has a "messianic certainty" about him [translated: "Bush thinks he's God"]: I think that the president has come to approach the problems we face in very ideological, absolutist terms, and I think that's, to a large degree, characterized how the Republicans who've been controlling Congress have operated over the last several years. And I think that has been a mistake. I think that the American people are historically a nonideological people. I think when we operate on the basis of common sense and pragmatism, we end up with better outcomes.
Hello? The United States is historically "nonideological?" What's that little document called that we put a lot of stock in . . . let's see . . . wait, wait, it's coming to me . . . you know, it starts something like,
We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.
OH YES, it's our CONSTITUTION!!! The document that's chock-full o' Big Ideas, and even Ideals!
Yeah, and remember the one before that? We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
Gee whiz. I'm pretty sure I hear a lot of "idealogical" ranting in those two documents!
Finally, as for "when we operate on the basis of common sense and pragmatism, we end up with better outcomes . . . ." Are you kidding me? What if pragmatism (what works for me) rules the day? Well, it just might make good, common sense to me to take your car because I need one, obviously, more than you; therefore, I should have it. There are no ideological, moral absolutes because it's all relative, baby!
Someone slap the public on the cheek and wake us up--he's smooth, he's articulate, he's an "Obamanation!" (That's a joke, but I think this guy's dangerous. Just my opinion.)
Item 3: Yesterday I wrote about not being able to sing harmony. My children would like to request one of those journalism clarification thingies: It is more correct to say that I cannot sing, period. Or even carry the tune of a Gregorian chant. But I think if I warmed up properly, I could probably handle a meditational “ohmmmmm.”
However, I would like to point out that it is these same teenagers, now disparaging my singing, who BEGGED me to sing “More Issy Bissy Pider!” when they were cute and little. (Whatever happened to those cute little people I used to take care of? These big ones seem to have sprouted full-grown one day from a school bus. And they eat all of the desserts, use all my shampoo and put wet towels in hampers. I think they are aliens posing as my children.)
But I digress.
I have found a way to sing to my heart’s content without their pained expressions communicating unspeakable things. I wait until they leave for school. Then I hop on my brand new elliptical trainer, put the earphones on and let it go . . . . “You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, it’s true; I saw your face in a crowded place, and I don’t know what to do . . .” Imagine THAT song being sung by the voice-challenged.
Now, I’m not making this up—this morning as I was singing in full Ethel Merman voice, I glanced down at my little dog who was sitting about six feet away, looking up at me with her head cocked completely to one side. She could not figure me out. Then she started brushing her paw over her ear rapidly, like a tic had lodged in there and was draining her life force.
“Must . . . get . . . sound . . . out . . . of . . . ear . . .” is what she looked to be thinking.
“Whatever, Zoe,” I said with disdain.
I think it’s a trick the aliens taught her.
These are the chanting Cardinals, not the Ball State Cardinals.