Now will you forgive us for imposing Rick Santorum on you? Even though his primary campaign theme is a strict "One Climax, One Kid" rule?
The competent Ann Selzer has just published a poll of Iowa voters, and our "unelectable" Ron Paul whips every other GOPer in a face-to-face against His Ineptness Barack Obama.
I wouldn't break out the champagne just yet. The results seem to reflect more revulsion with President Obama and the other Republicans than any great enchantment with our offbeat ol' Grandpa Paul. But a guy can be heartened to see hints of a friendlier attitude toward Constitutional government.
Paul beats the president by 7 points. Santorum beats him by 4 and Romney wins by 2. Poor Newt loses; Mr. Obama sends him home to Callista by 14 points.
From Hawkeye lips to God's ears, eh?
(There is rain on our parade. Paul's unfavorables total 41 points against Santorum's 33. The others' hate numbers are worse, 51 for Mitt and 65 for Newt.
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For a couple of reasons you probably want to read the whole thing, including links to the polling geekery. My brief report here is undoubtedly colored by a bias against hinging a presidential race on regulating the reproductive habits of every Joe and Sally Sixpack in the land. Likewise by disgust with the intense debate about how manly -- or bogus -- Mitt looks in his new starched and ironed jeans. Too, my mind may still be fogged by the pleasant little fantasy about going rock climbing with Rachel.
Feb 19, 2012
Here ya go
New girl friend
It's been sickish around here for fully a week. Just a cold, bad enough to slow a fellow down to idle speed plus maybe a hundred rpm or so. Yesterday I gave up and took to my bed -- couch, actually -- with the electric teevee on. The nap lasted close to 18 hours, broken only for the demands of biology, human and canine.
It ended around 2 a.m with a cheerful awakening, the bugs either in retreat or on a tactical stand down, leaving me with an appetite an an attitude tolerant enough to actually focus on the flat screen where I saw most of:
Among Giants, c. 1998, from the Brits and featuring an actress to whom I've never paid attention. She's an Aussie lass named Rachel Griffiths. Here she is Gerry, also an Aussie, a rock climber who hooked up with a crew of tower painters working in the British Moors. I spare you my plot summary. You can always Bing it if you want. But I foist upon you my view that Ms. Griffiths is a woman to behold, even though the skin magazines wouldn't be terribly interested. Not quite enough chin, nothing-much hair, an ordinary figure. So the attraction comes from what? I don't know and probably couldn't articulate it if I did. Probably just something unusually alive in her which the cameras can't help but catch.
In any case, I wish to thank Australia for producing her and the British film industry for bringing her to my tellie. For the latter it represents a great leap forward from The Barnicles of Wimply Street.
If you happen to be in my neighborhood, Ms. Griffiths ....
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It ended around 2 a.m with a cheerful awakening, the bugs either in retreat or on a tactical stand down, leaving me with an appetite an an attitude tolerant enough to actually focus on the flat screen where I saw most of:
Among Giants, c. 1998, from the Brits and featuring an actress to whom I've never paid attention. She's an Aussie lass named Rachel Griffiths. Here she is Gerry, also an Aussie, a rock climber who hooked up with a crew of tower painters working in the British Moors. I spare you my plot summary. You can always Bing it if you want. But I foist upon you my view that Ms. Griffiths is a woman to behold, even though the skin magazines wouldn't be terribly interested. Not quite enough chin, nothing-much hair, an ordinary figure. So the attraction comes from what? I don't know and probably couldn't articulate it if I did. Probably just something unusually alive in her which the cameras can't help but catch.
In any case, I wish to thank Australia for producing her and the British film industry for bringing her to my tellie. For the latter it represents a great leap forward from The Barnicles of Wimply Street.
If you happen to be in my neighborhood, Ms. Griffiths ....
---
Feb 18, 2012
Tally Ho. PUULLL. Splash One.
Out on a South Kalinky plantation, a gathering of gentlemen organized a live pigeon shoot. Well-sensitized and organized souls objected.
"We'll fix them," the SHARKs (SHowing Animals Respect and Kindness, /sigh/) resolved. Then they sent their little drone helicopter to spook the birds. The hunt was off. Well, almost off.
"Seconds after it hit the air, numerous shots rang out," (Senior SHARK Steve) Hindi said in the release. "As an act of revenge for us shutting down the pigeon slaughter, they had shot down our copter?"
Steve, ol' buddy, we detect a surprised tone in your wail. Let us review:
A bunch of heavily armed guys gathered for a a legal -- if admittedly obnoxious -- "sport." They were loaded to knock small flying things out of the sky. You badly pissed them off by sending a small but noisy flying object into the sky. And you expected what, you dingbat? An invitation back to the plantation house for a few chuckles over bourbon and branch?
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.
H/T Jon via email
"We'll fix them," the SHARKs (SHowing Animals Respect and Kindness, /sigh/) resolved. Then they sent their little drone helicopter to spook the birds. The hunt was off. Well, almost off.
"Seconds after it hit the air, numerous shots rang out," (Senior SHARK Steve) Hindi said in the release. "As an act of revenge for us shutting down the pigeon slaughter, they had shot down our copter?"
Steve, ol' buddy, we detect a surprised tone in your wail. Let us review:
A bunch of heavily armed guys gathered for a a legal -- if admittedly obnoxious -- "sport." They were loaded to knock small flying things out of the sky. You badly pissed them off by sending a small but noisy flying object into the sky. And you expected what, you dingbat? An invitation back to the plantation house for a few chuckles over bourbon and branch?
---
.
H/T Jon via email
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