yeah, right!
General
Funniest thing I’ve seen in a while:Proposed Indian Names for Certain White People
A few of my favorites:
While watching the court proceedings unfold down in Florida I’ve been bothered by one thing: What makes a person decide to be called by the first letter of their first name? Did N. Sanders Sauls just wake up one day and proclaim that, “from now on, I will be referred to as “N””?
And when did this happen? Do you think it was in those rebellious days of high school? “Mom and Dad, quit calling me Nathaniel. From now on I will only answer to “N”. Yes, that’s right, not even Nate is short enough for me. I have to make my first name as short as possible. If I could make it a half grunt, that would be great, but, alas, I have to write something down on my test papers. Might as well be a single letter. Those chicks are really going to dig me now. I’ll be the coolest kid in Tallahassee High.”
Something tells me he was still beat to a pulp the next day at school by the smoking kids.
I guess the kitten reads the muy because last night she was calm and slept right next to my head. I now officially feel guilty about bitching about her. So, if you are reading this, little kitten, I am so sorry. Can we still be friends?
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Lately I’ve been feeling like I live in an episode of “That Darn Cat.” We are taking care of a kitten for a couple of months and it is driving me crazy. Last night (cats are so damn nocturnal), the kitten did nothing except lay on my pillow above my head and try to lick my scalp! Imagine sleeping peacefully and all of a sudden someone rubs wet sandpaper on your head. Mmmm…feels good.
Don’t get me wrong, the kitten is extrememly cute and I kind of like her. It’s just that I don’t think I am or ever will be a cat person. I like dogs. Did I mention that the kitten’s litter box is in the corner right next to my side of the bed? It’s got this hood on it with a fan that sucks the air through a filter that is supposed to get rid of the smell. But, of course the fan mostly succeeds in blowing a nice whiff of cat pooh into my nostrils as I try to sleep while the kitten gently gnaws at my skull. Fun!
Can you tell I didn’t get any sleep last night?
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Well, the button made it through lunch, but I just looked down and it is gone. The search begins…
This morning I was getting dressed as I do almost every morning. I noticed as I was buttoning my shirt that one of the buttons was barely hanging on. Well, it was too late. I was already commited to the outfit. I had already put on my pants, socks, shoes and matching belt. There was no turning back now. I buttoned my shirt very carefully and fortunately the little string holding that button on my shirt didn’t break. Currently (11:56am EST), the button is still on my shirt, but I have to be very careful at lunch to not either a) eat too much or, b) snag the button on something.
Wish me luck.
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Listen, I know the archives still aren’t working. But, I’m close. Oh so close.
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This was sent to me today.
Dear Friends,
As the unfolding drama of the election continues to stun and astound, thought you might find this an interesting, if rather disturbing viewpoint.
From an article in which a Zimbabwe politician was quoted as saying that children should study this event closely for it shows that election fraud is not only a third world phenomena….
1. Imagine that we read of an election occuring anywhere in the third world in which the self-declared winner was the son of the former prime minister and that former prime minister was himself the former head of that nation’s secret police (cia).
2. Imagine that the self-declared winner lost the popular vote but won based on some old colonial holdover (electoral college) from the nation’s pre-democracy past.
3. Imagine that the self-declared winner’s ‘victory’ turned on disputed votes cast in a province governed by his brother!
4. Imagine that the poorly drafted ballots of one district, a district heavily favoring the self-declared winner’s opponent, led thousands of voters to vote for the wrong candidate.
5. Imagine that that members of that nation’s most despised caste, fearing for their lives/livelihoods, turned out in record numbers to vote in near-universal opposition to the self-declared winner’s candidacy.
6. Imagine that hundreds of members of that most-despised caste were intercepted on their way to the polls by state police operating under the authority of the self-declared winner’s brother.
7. Imagine that six million people voted in the disputed province and that the self-declared winner’s ‘lead’ was only 327 votes. Fewer, certainly, than the vote counting machines’ margin of error.
8. Imagine that the self-declared winner and his political party opposed a more careful by-hand inspection and re-counting of the ballots in the disputed province or in its most hotly disputed district.
9. Imagine that the self-declared winner, himself a governor of a major province, had the worst human rights record of any province in his nation and actually led the nation in executions.
10. Imagine that a major campaign promise of the self-declared winner was to appoint like-minded human rights violators to lifetime positions on the high court of that nation.
None of us would deem such an election to be representative of anything other than the self-declared winner’s will-to-power. All of us, I imagine, would wearily turn the page thinking that it was another sad tale of pitiful pre- or anti-democracy peoples in some strange elsewhere.
My friend has started referring to me as “God Hater” because of my earlier post. I have to state, for the record, that I wholeheartedly stand behind what I wrote in that post. My band most definitley rocked Pensacola’s ass that night.
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