A small sample from John MXL, just back from two-wheeling the Appalachian wilds:
My seat is approximately 47 years old. The bike's seat is approximately 22 years old. Before the next long trip one of them is going to be changed. I'm betting on the bike seat.
Wish this man would post more.
Sep 25, 2012
The morning mail
I've never registered as an official RNC alumnus, so I don't know how I got on the has-been mailing list there at the Eisenhower Center. Maybe they checked old expense accounts. Maybe they dug into the bar tab archives at the Capitol Hill Club (good place to have a drink with guys in nice suits and the cute interns they brought).
Anyway, they found me and figured out that, as free help, I might pump the Romney GOTV drive by a vote or two.
Friend,
As alumni of the Republican National Committee, you're fully aware of how important volunteer activities are to achieving our goals. And that's why we're asking for your help ... Over the next six weeks we need to reach out to as many potential voters as we can.
Thanks,
Reince Priebus
Chairman, Republican National Committee
Chairman, Republican National Committee
It's nice to be remembered, Reince, and I share your distaste for His Ineptness the President. But no, thanks. Because Mitt, among a few other little things which don't really add up to a GOP interested in small government, free markets, foreign-adventure restraint, or individual sovereignty.
Best,
Jim
Beer
If you can't get the malty good stuff my neighbor makes, or the excellent porter from my son-in-law's basement brewery, try the Marzen from the Leinenkugel family plant up in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. A six-pack came my way as a gift last week. It's new to me, and I'm impressed.
It's a middling-dark brew in the light heavyweight class that feels substantial on the tongue. Comfortable in the mouth, you might say, and I think that's because the Leinenkugels have learned restraint with hops.
Leading to my morning rant. Brewers of the world: You can not improve mediocre beer by tripling the hops. (I'm thinking mainly of Sam Adams here.)
I omit discussion of those who train the horse to go in a brown bottle, toss in some cherry syrup or lemon peels, and call their ad agency.
It's a middling-dark brew in the light heavyweight class that feels substantial on the tongue. Comfortable in the mouth, you might say, and I think that's because the Leinenkugels have learned restraint with hops.
Leading to my morning rant. Brewers of the world: You can not improve mediocre beer by tripling the hops. (I'm thinking mainly of Sam Adams here.)
I omit discussion of those who train the horse to go in a brown bottle, toss in some cherry syrup or lemon peels, and call their ad agency.
Sep 24, 2012
Hello, Monday
Cheerily in front of a small fire on a 37-degree morning, I attended to Dr. Nancy Snyderman, she of the whip-me shoes and the MSNBC gig.
She praised Mayor Bloomberg for killing the Big Gulp. "That's what leaders do ... it's a matter of public health." Yes. When Americans are fatter than a Somali goat boy the Republic is lost.
So do your part. Find some dude drinking a Dr. Pepper and shoot him. Pour encourager les autres.
---
Over on CNN the newsies offered an insipid campaign analysis. Who's "better" on gun control, Obama or Romney? Not even CNN could root out a difference. They both detest armed proles but, having counted us, find silence expedient. Of course if His Ineptness wins, he'll have a lot more flexibility.
The highlight turned out to be an allegation that Americans, collectively, possessed guns at a rate of 88.8 per hundred. Okay, I'll scarf up that credibility enhancing "point-eight" and merely observe that makes us 11.2 guns-per-hundred shy of the optimum.
---
The motivation to rant hatefully -- meaning usefully --is still low. I dislike being insipid, but, dagnabbit, it's just too hard to hate when you're feeling spiritually obese.
Lessee, among other things...
--K and D delivered a weighty home-grown watermelon last night, and I offered a fine fat "Oktoberfest" Marzen in thanks.
--My oldest friend, resident of one of the large eastern communes for many decades, visited. We continued the political debate begun when we were in junior high, back in the Coolidge administration or thereabouts. As the curtain fell we agreed that things are badly f*cked up. (N.B. He isn't fat, but he's sturdier than a rural Ethopian, so I suppose the good MSNBC doctor could find something horrifying about his Body Mass Index.)
--I'm idling away some spare time with a great rarity -- a readable college text book. Can't remember where I picked up Kent Steckmesser's The Westward Movement ; A Short HIstory, but I'm glad I did. The chapters on the Rocky Mountain fur trade are stunningly well written and exasperatingly free of the usual college-professor mistakes. He's even careful to lay out the evidence that John C. Fremont would be a "whodat?" except for (a) having married the boss's daughter and thereby (b) acquired the money to hire Kit Carson and Tom Fitzpatrick to take his hand and lead him around the American West.
She praised Mayor Bloomberg for killing the Big Gulp. "That's what leaders do ... it's a matter of public health." Yes. When Americans are fatter than a Somali goat boy the Republic is lost.
So do your part. Find some dude drinking a Dr. Pepper and shoot him. Pour encourager les autres.
---
Over on CNN the newsies offered an insipid campaign analysis. Who's "better" on gun control, Obama or Romney? Not even CNN could root out a difference. They both detest armed proles but, having counted us, find silence expedient. Of course if His Ineptness wins, he'll have a lot more flexibility.
The highlight turned out to be an allegation that Americans, collectively, possessed guns at a rate of 88.8 per hundred. Okay, I'll scarf up that credibility enhancing "point-eight" and merely observe that makes us 11.2 guns-per-hundred shy of the optimum.
---
The motivation to rant hatefully -- meaning usefully --is still low. I dislike being insipid, but, dagnabbit, it's just too hard to hate when you're feeling spiritually obese.
Lessee, among other things...
--K and D delivered a weighty home-grown watermelon last night, and I offered a fine fat "Oktoberfest" Marzen in thanks.
--My oldest friend, resident of one of the large eastern communes for many decades, visited. We continued the political debate begun when we were in junior high, back in the Coolidge administration or thereabouts. As the curtain fell we agreed that things are badly f*cked up. (N.B. He isn't fat, but he's sturdier than a rural Ethopian, so I suppose the good MSNBC doctor could find something horrifying about his Body Mass Index.)
--I'm idling away some spare time with a great rarity -- a readable college text book. Can't remember where I picked up Kent Steckmesser's The Westward Movement ; A Short HIstory, but I'm glad I did. The chapters on the Rocky Mountain fur trade are stunningly well written and exasperatingly free of the usual college-professor mistakes. He's even careful to lay out the evidence that John C. Fremont would be a "whodat?" except for (a) having married the boss's daughter and thereby (b) acquired the money to hire Kit Carson and Tom Fitzpatrick to take his hand and lead him around the American West.
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