I'm going to miss the first hour or so of the debate tonight due to novel workshop. My money is on McCain raising the Ayers thing, using the same transparently flawed logic he has brazenly tried to advance for the last ten days: he'll claim he doesn't care about some "washed up old domestic terrorist" or Obama's gay Connecticut marriage to Ayers, blessed by that scary Rev. Wright who hates America, but that the American people of whom Obama is not one deserve to hear the truth and that it's a question of truthfulness and truthiness and truishness, which ryhmes with Jewishness, which reminds him, did you see that the socialist Obama's own Negro supporter, Jesse Jackson, is warning that the terrorist Obama administration will abolish Israel from the face of the earth, and every grandma and grandpa in the Sunshine State had better run for their lives? I'm just sayin.
Elsewhere, from atop my head, my hair continues to flee. Trying as desperately as my man Joe Biden to sidestep the combover. I've asked M to let me know when it's too sketchy to ignore -- when the part is a bit too wide, too white -- so I can avoid embarrassing myself and everyone else and put a hat on already.
Was all weepy and hurty yesterday. I think it must have something to do with the decimated blood cells... I felt tres fragile all day, and fussy last night. Keeping up with economic and campaign news didn't help, but I'm a junkie. Today's better, me-wise; the economy persists in sucking out loud.
And the infant mortality rate is, shamefully, higher than that of 28 other countries.
And the Dow is down 735 points.
And we'll all be eating beanie-weenies and bark inside a month.
But, yeah, come on, McCain. Tell me all about Bill Ayers.
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2 comments:
Oh man. Beanie weenies and bark. MMMM.
The only thing that gives me hope is that we are really truly (maybe) about to have as a president a man who is surely the coolest person in America. Who knows? Maybe he can fix this mess. But he's got to stop e-mailing me first and get health care nailed down.
And THAT, dear E, is about all the optimism I have in me today.
xo, L
Aw, Lily -- I hope your optimism returns! (18 days and counting down...) I think I am addicted -- actually dependent on -- HuffPo, TPM, Wonkette ('cause they're just so funny). My friend Amy thinks it's a girl thing; all the women we know are totally bugging about this election, hopped up on news, unable to relax, checking headlines and hitting refresh and forwarding articles and the latest outrages, while the men, for the most part, are confident (as Obama appears to be) that Obama will win and drive us out of this ditch.
Meantime, it's a little hard to breathe.
Chin up and cheers,
E.
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