Election Fatigue

If anyone is like me and suffering from election fatigue, I have a few suggestions.

First, find a couple of friends and commiserate.

Then, run out and buy yourself a big-assed gun.
And last, but not least, pray.

Palin Rally Dudes

Palin may have drawn 60,000 people in her Florida rally, but she had two very special guests at her rally in Carson City, NV. Alas, their call for diverse unification or unified diversity, went unheeded. They did, however, raise enough dough to buy a few brewskees and a pack of smokes.

Why Do They Call It Golf?

On the eve of the Ryder Cup, I thought it would be cool to revisit the origins of the game through the mind of one of the world's funniest people, Robin Williams. There is an old joke that asks, "Why do they call it golf? Because, fuck was already taken!" Laugh on.

MONEY

Is it just me, or is anyone else put off by the irony of two politicians and their respective minions spending a billion dollars in a campaign for the white house while the economy collapses around our collective asses? Can I see a show of hands? Am I here all alone? What the fuck, over? I'm not very good at math but, I think I could pay more than a few months rent with a billion dollars. I could even buy some stock. Oh, my mistake, the stock market crashed quietly while we were all concentrating on the amount of money being spent on our behalf by the benevolent ones. So maybe I could just stock up on some cheap wine and forget that I am just a heartbeat away from the shopping cart down by the river. What the hell, Ollie?
Campaign finance reform (McCain/Fiengold) was supposed to be a "buy" partisan fix to the big, corporate domination of our national political process. Everybody in the "game" seems to be happy with the way it is working out for them. So I'm wondering, what's going on here? People are losing their shirts, major corporations are failing, the government is forking out billions in bailouts and all the while, fund raising records are being set each and every month by both political parties. Where is all the money coming from when everyone is in such dire straights? How can two men raise so much cash when, supposedly, there is no cash to be had? I know, I ask a lot of questions.
I'm beginning to think money is like energy-it's never really lost, it just changes hands. Not only is it never lost, it is manufactured like candy or tires or computer chips. When you need more, make more. Supply and demand. The people need money. Supply them. Whoa! Wait a minute, I'm going to start asking questions again. Who runs this store, anyway? There's nothing on the shelves but the back room is full of goods. Please take a number and you will be seen in the order of your contribution. Chrysler, Lockheed, Continental, Washington Mutual, AIG-not necessarily in that order.
Back to the show of hands. Does anyone see a pattern here? Let me rephrase that-does anyone see a change of hands here? And yet, so many have so much to give to so few. Meanwhile, I've posted links to a couple of articles that make you wonder why and two new, (old but still relevant) tunes to my playlist. Engage.
http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/latestnews/-The-billiondollar-race-for.4490697.jp
http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0908/13435.html

Lipstick On A Pig

Mike and the Bike

I want to thank Cody and Diane for the cool book, Mike and the Bike. At first, I thought it was just a neat little gift they gave me for my birthday. But after reading it and checking out the credits on the people who had put it together, it became quite an educational odyssey. After a couple of hours of Googling and You Tubing, I learned that Michael Ward, the guy who conceived and wrote the book, is a guitar player of some renown. Formerly with Jakob Dylan's band, the Wallflowers, he now plays guitar for Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals. I don't know if Cody and Diane knew this at the time they bought the book or if it is just a coincidence, but Ward and I have an eerie resemblance since I shaved my head. Of course, I also look a lot like Shell Silverstien when I'm bald. The big difference is I don't play the guitar or write stories as well as either of them so I'm not sure it really means anything.

But back to the book. There is a CD that comes with it that includes and introduction by Lance Armstrong. It is quite a story in itself how Ward and Armstrong became friends. They met back stage at a show in Texas in which the Wallflowers were the opening act for Sherill Crowe. Lance invited Michael to breakfast the next morning and to make a long story short, they became fast friends and riding partners. Ward ultimately began working with the Lance Armstrong Foundation, an organization that assists cancer patients. Over the course of time, Armstrong introduced Ward to Phil Liggett who is know as the "Voice of Cycling". He has written and commentated on thirty two Tours de France races and ten Olympics and agreed to narrate the CD for Mike and the Bike. Ward's young son, Tennessee, gets musical credit and sings the lyrics on the CD tracks.

This is Michael Ward's first children's book and a percentage of the proceeds go to the Lance Armstrong Foundation. It is quite a departure from the world of rock and roll where he has spent much of his creative life. There is an official Mike and the Bike website, http://www.mikeandthebike.com/, where you can hear the songs and see some videos and link to Michael Ward's blog as well. I have put up a couple of Ward tunes on my play list, one with the Wallflowers and one with Ben Harper.

I don't know, maybe it's just the eyes.

To Vote Or Not To Vote

When I started this blog I promised myself not to engage in anything remotely political. My vow of abstinence was purely for spiritual reasons as anyone who knows me knows I am always mentally up for a good political tete a tete. The longest campaign in history and the same old politics as usual has simply wrenched the heart for debate right out of me. I can only listen to so much rhetoric and watch so much hype. It takes way too much energy, of which I have precious little. Honestly, I think everyone in this country but the politicians and their plebes and lobbyists are sick and tired of the whole charade.
That being said, the events of the last two days have seriously tested my resolve. I have to admit that I watched Obama's acceptance "speech of a lifetime" while anticipating McCain's well timed vice presidential pick. The punch-counter punch was incredibly great political theatre. Throw into the mix, Senator McCain's gentlemanly congratulations to Senator Obama for the historical relevance of his nomination on the anniversary of Martin Luther King's historic speech from the Lincoln Memorial and you suddenly have the makings of what might be a truly interesting presidential race.
But still, I hesitate to involve myself with the notion that anything at all will change regardless of all the theatrics. We are living in an age when kids can morph themselves into a video golf game and convince themselves that they can play like Tiger Woods. At the same time, politicians revise history through audio visual techniques to convince young voters that something was other than what it was. With today's technology, do we really know what is real and what is fabricated? I've got to confess, most of the time I can't tell the difference.
So, where are we now? Every election cycle we find ourselves on the brink of extinction, or worse. We are a nation at war, the democrats cry. The republicans claim victory and we are just cleaning up the mess. Our social security system is a failed endeavour and our senior citizens are eating scraps, say the liberals. They'll be alright, say the conservatives, we're just borrowing against the future. The boomers will make up the difference. On and on and on. Issue after contrived issue. No end in sight.

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief, "There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth, None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke, "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl, Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl. Bob Dylan
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