Colin Powell: The Voice of Reason

I've always admired the man; even when he made the famous "yellow cake" speech of 2003 (not to be confused with Julia Childs' "yellow cake speech of 1969"), I couldn't help but feel as though he was a reluctant participant in something that was much bigger than he--and that he would be resigning soon after, which he did.

What came out in his endorsement of Barak Obama, though, solidified my belief that this is a man who personifies the very definition of integrity and honor. It wasn't his deep disgust over the reigning McCain tactics, nor the disillusionment he shows over the sharp right turn the current republican squall has made. What was it that he said that, to be honest, brought tears to my eyes? It was a statement that I've been trying to articulate for some time and hoped--REALLY hoped--that someone would have the balls to say:

"I'm also troubled by, not what Senator McCain says, but what members of the party say, and it is permitted to be said. Such things as 'Well you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim.' Well the correct answer is 'He is not a Muslim, he's a Christian, he's always been a Christian.' But the really right answer is 'What if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country?' The answer is 'No. That's not America.' Is there something wrong with some 7-year old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she can be president?"

And then he went on to say:

"I feel strongly about this particular point because of a picture I saw in a magazine. It was a photo-essay about troops who were serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. And one picture at the tail end of this photo essay was of a mother in Arlington Cemetery and she had her head on the headstone of her son's grave. And as the picture focused in you can see the writing on the headstone. And it gave his awards, Purple Heart, Bronze Star, showed that he died in Iraq, gave his date of birth, date of death. He was 20 years old. And then at the very top of the headstone, it didn't have a Christian cross, it didn't have a Star of David. It had a crescent and a star of the Islamic faith. And his name was Karim Rashad Sultan Khan. And he was an American, he was born in New Jersey, he was 14 at the time of 9/11 and he waited until he can go serve his counrty and he gave his life."

Amen.

Now that's one spicy rodent!

Not long after a forest fire burns its way through acreage, the news media comes forth with a possible culprit. Sometimes its lightning (that would mean God did it? Or Electra Woman?), other times its bad cub scouts, or too often a deranged arsonist who likes the idea of a tsunami of flame working its way through the countryside. This time, though, the culprit is none other than a mischevous, kinda stupid and, currently, crisp squirrel. According to the AP, "Redding firefighters say the squirrel set off the blaze when it shorted out a power line, caught fire and dropped into dry vegetation." http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2008/10/14/state/n100513D39.DTL

Typing "flaming squirrel" into Google gets me 3,190 hits (granted, most of these are repeat stories, but it's still pretty impressive), which means that apparently squirrels are quite flammable and likely wreak havoc when they are aflame--enough to get notice on the world wide web. Restaurant names and Celtic surf bands aside (http://flamingsquirrel.net/), Flaming Squirrels are quite a hot item. As opposed to, say, flaming rats (834 hits), flaming hamsters (1,290 hits) and flaming gerbils (512). Only flaming queens get more hits, but then we all know they get around so much more than the average queen (8370 hits).

A year ago, a flaming squirrel in Bayonne, NJ fell from the sky (another powerline chewer) and managed to find its way into the engine compartment of a Toyota Camry, leading to an explosive ending. http://www.nj.com/hudson/index.ssf/2007/10/flaming_squirrel_ignites_car_i.html

And in July of 2005, a flamer (yes, tightroping on a power line) managed to start a brush fire in Oroville, WA. http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002390256_webpyrosquirrels19.html

My favorite was this news item about a candidate for student government at Princeton. One of the things he had to do (as part of the vetting process, I guess) was to fess up that he'd poured lighter fluid on, and subsequently lit, a dead squirrel in a wacky fraterity (and booze-fueled) prank. http://www.dailyprincetonian.com/archives/2006/12/01/news/16814.shtml Those crazy kids!

A New Blog!

Due to the raging success of my previous entry, "Dear Sarah Palin", I've decided to create a new one, dedicated solely to the column. You can find it at http://helpmesarah.blogspot.com/

Submitted dilemmas are welcome...

Today I did a lesson (non-indoctrination, of course) on the electoral system and I brought the website www.pollster.com up on the screen to show an example of polling, coupled with electoral counting. 24 4th graders broke into cheers when they saw 320 to 163. I played the middle, naturally, explaining how things can change on a dime and that no matter what, the results would be historical: The first African American president or the oldest. No comment on which is the more monumental or positive.

Dear Sarah Palin

As we lead up to the all important election, I'm choosing to post a semi-regular column entitled, "Dear Sarah" So that we can all benefit from the sage advice of our possible, future VP.

Dear Sarah,

I was at a dinner party when the hostess, who was drunk, suddenly launched into an off key (and off color) version of "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini". The problem is, my former wife was killed by a shark and all that washed up on the shore was the exact thing that the hostess was singing. I chose not to say anything, but as a result, the fondue was more of a "fon-don't" if you know what I mean. What should I do next time?

Bikini waxing nostalgia

Dear BWN,

I hear ya, champ. Back in my hometown of Wasilla, we have a saying: "Drill, Kill, then take a pill." What does that have to do with yer problem? Not a whole heckofa lot! Ya see, we gotta spread demcracy in the world and that's not just limited to our neighbors that we can see from our front porch, ya know. I'd say that bein tolerant of your friend's choice ta drink and sing is important. I have lotsa friends who drink and sing and if that's their choice then I'm not one to judge. Not out loud, anyway, if ya know what I mean and I'm sher ya do. Like that time when Todd and his buddy went fer their monthly snowmachine racing trip and I tied a note onto the handle and when it came back the note was still there and the tank was still full of the colored gas that I tinted before they left. I'm not one to judge, by golly, but I sher woulda felt better if that tank had been empty dontcha know. So, BWN, buck up and go shoot a wolf next time. Believe me, killin things makes life a lot easier sometimes!

Obliviously yours,
Sarah

Cloris--gotta love her!

So I found myself doing the "guilty pleasure" thing last night--watching "Dancing with the Stars." I had initially just wanted to see Cloris Leachman, but I have to admit that I got a kick out of a few of the others (though three or four were just painful to watch--like dealing with your drunk uncle who tries to cut in on the bride during the couple's dance). Still, Cloris was awesome. Who can't be enamoured of her? Nurse Deisel, Frau Blucher (sp?), Phyllis. She's a total riot and just watching her seeming to have the time of her life and being her acidic self was awesome. I hope she sticks around for a long time (on the show, and in life).

We're in full force at school and it's painfully obvious that we're in the thick of fall, too. Rain all weekend, chilly mornings, gray skies. I rather like it, but there is that whole "rebuild the woodrack and start splitting firewood" thing. I have nothing more to say this morning, but close with a quick Haiku:

Irish cream cocoa

smooth jazz on KPLU

Ease into the day

I'm Back!

Okay, so this summer has been one of learning, (light) travel and trying to catch up on projects that can't possibly be caught up on (I know, totally ending that with a preposition).

It's been a good summer, but I am glad to be back at school. I did meet my goal of completing the first draft of my novel. I'm now mired in revisions and hope to have something to send to my reader in the next few weeks. Then, with any luck, I'll be able to have a "final" product to shop around by November.

We did a wine tour in Willamette (awesome), I returned to Missouri for the annual Pennytown reuion (one of the best weekends ever) and, just last weekend, went to Portland to see Antony and the Johnsons in concert, with the Portland Symphony. Amazing; one of the greatest live performances I've ever seen.

I would get into political talk, but frankly, I'm worn out. Speaking of being frank, though, I saw that Al Franken won his primary in Minnesota. Hooray! I had the great fortune of (kind of) meeting him when I was in Minneapolis this past June. He and I were both interviewed on the Twin Cities Public TV program "Alamanac" and we exchanged pleasantries and I handed him his notes when he left the interview desk without them. That was the extent of it. I wish he'd stuck around to hear about my book (which you can learn more about by going to http://www.thelyncherinme.com/ ) But I was impressed with his demeanor and his ability to tackle not-so-soft questions from the interviewers. I can't wait to see Sarah Palin do the same, if it ever happens. Oh, did I get political by mentioning Caribou Barbie? Well, slap my face.

What a Freakin' Week...

It's been one of those weeks (or two) for me. You know, those ones where if things are going to go wrong, they do. I tend to get leery when things go too well for too long; I imagine that the bottom will soon fall out from under me and the house of cards will collapse (a mix of metaphors, I know).

The trials of being a landlord were in high form this month. A leaky toilet and a broken drier. I went to fix both, was unable to do the drier (is it spelled "dryer"?) and was only able to do a half-assed job on the toilet (that figure of speech is quite accurate since, when I replaced the toilet, the new seat was too small and the toilet wobbled). And then, I was to discover a major drain leak emptying all the contents of the washing machine into the basement. To add to all of this, I had just been diagnosed the day before with bursitis in my left shoulder, this "out of the blue" swollen tendon that made even buttoning my pants hell.

And that brings me to the whole "bursitis" thing. With all do respect to people who actually suffer from these things (and are older than I am), but this is the first condition that my brain, which is frequently obsessing about age lately, has attached the label of "old person's diseasae." I'm expecting bunions, gout and osteoporosis next. Bursitis?? All I know is it hurts somethin' fierce and I didn't do anything that I know of to bring it about. I know, get out the tiny violins...

So anyway, I'm repairing (or not) the items in our duplex and, of course, everything that requires an ounce of muscle is on the left side, so I'm pretty much useless. Time to call in the professionals and open the valve on my bank account. And then, in the same week, our hot tub breaks down (I hesitate to even say that since I never dreamed I'd even be able to have a hot tub, much less a really nice bathtub) and our propane tank runs dry. With fuel prices through the roof, it cost us 20% more to fill the thing up.

I'm jonesing for a better August. My next posting, when I get to it, will be must less ranting and more wise musings, I promise.