Down with sex

I see by the news that Mitt is releasing his tax dope tomorrow. Yippie. The Republic is saved.

Even better, Newt might have to come clean about how much history he taught to Freddie and Fanny in return for the  million-six.

Together that's about all we need to know to make an informed choice about who should get to control the nuke codes and the number of Federal Reserve Cartoons Ben Bernanke must print.

I know all this because I have spent an unconscionable amount of time in front of the new, cheap flat screen watching the sexiest people in the world tell me so.

Ideas? We don't need to talk about no steenken ideas.

Booooring.

---

While I would miss ogling Mika and whazhername -- Mrs. Newt the Third --  some mornings, I nevertheless propose to amend the Constitution.

We must require that candidates for public office, their spouses, and, especially, electric teevee "newspersons" to be drawn from the ranks of the truly ugly. Further, they must be adjudged charmless by a jury of their peers.

By thus ending the constant titillation of our glands on the pretext of following a great national dialog, we might begin the process of thinking about how to choose those leaders who will steal the fewest possible numbers of our dollars and our liberties.

To this end I announce formation of a national committee to promote it. The honorary co-chairpersons are to be Josh Hartnett and Paris Hilton.

Poor Me

Once in a great while a guy wakes up just plain growly. The overnight fire didn't hold.  The coffee tastes bitter. The V8 lacks bite. All three yolks broke when you flipped them.  There's just enough biscuit mix left for one tiny, measly bite.  The view from the big south window is an insult to the eye, gray sky and snow already becoming dirty. The ancient Mac desktop is cranky.

Even the dog is standoffish.

So, no matter what crud you face in your life this morning,  you should turn thankful eyes to whatever Heaven you believe in and express gratitude that you are somewhere other than here.

(The proposed cure involves a few hours in the loading shack. If it works, you'll be the first to know. If it doesn't I'll find other phraseology to continue sharing my  fascinating self-pity with y'all.)

Friday morning roundup

--The calendar notwithstanding, stalwarts of the northern plains are looking at the first day of winter, ankle-deep snow, cold enough to make  you think about the cost of fuel, and a wind very clever at finding those little  cracks and gaps you forgot to recaulk last fall.

--The four inches of  fresh snow shocked New Dog Libby this morning. She assumed her normal position for answering nature's call, instantly resumed a full upright pose, thought it over, and in due course achieved relief with a much shallower squat.

-- The electric teevee can be almost as entertaining on a gloomy morning as a young lab.  Joe Scarborough built a long segment around Colbert whose run for the presidency is a  funny concept, though wearing thin. Still, Colbert redeemed himself by endorsing -- fairly seriously as far as I could tell -- Ron Paul.

--The debate last night was insufferably banal, although I had to grin at John  King's discomfort when Newt went into his self-righteous junkyard dog mode. 









 

Let's run 'em through the chute again, LeRoy

Re: Iowa Caucuses 2012

We grow hogs pretty good, but it sure shames us we can't count 'em.