Saturday, December 27, 2003

Some Gentle Humor For The New Year

Democrats are a gloomy bunch, I've been told. It has to do with having a bleeding heart and a conscience, some say. Others think that it's the natural consequence of the twilight world some democrats have drifted into after trying to persuade themselves of being just the same as Republicans except not. I think that it's caused by having to listen to too much Ann Coulter and Bill O'Riley and Rush Limbaugh.

So here's an antidote, a vaccination against gloominess in the forthcoming election year:

"The elephant is the perfect symbol for Republicans: they never forget, lead
each other around by the tail, and think everyone should work for peanuts."

"Republicans are good for one thing: getting elected every 30 or 40 years so
people can be reminded how terrible they are." - Bob Shrum

"The Religious Right scares the *hell* out of me." - Sen. Barry Goldwater
(R-AZ, ret.)

"If the Republicans will stop telling lies about the Democrats, we will stop
telling the truth about them." - Adlai Stevenson (1900-1965)

"The Republican Convention opened with a prayer. If the Lord can see his way
to bless the Republican Party the way it's been carrying on, the the rest of
us ought to get it without asking." - Will Rogers, 1928

Republican Health Care Plan: marry a Canadian.

The GOP: "A rising tide lifts all yachts."

"You *must* have that we can starve it!" -- The GOP

More similar jokes here

The New Blogs Showcase

My vote this time goes to Chris "Lefty" Brown's Corner: What's so funny about peace, love, and higher taxes.

At least one of the other candidates is - how to say this politely? - a nutcase.

Still, it's the time of the year to be merry and optimistic, so I hope that Chris will win. He deserves it.

Friday, December 26, 2003

He Eked Hot Fanciness!

That's me in anagram. Another nice alternative is: Shake Hen Defections!
I got the idea from a blog I now can't trace.

Anagrams have an interesting history. Supposedly

The greatest users of anagrams were the Kaballahs, a group of mystics living in France and Spain during the 12th and 13th centuries....They truly believed that letters and numbers were the building blocks of the universe and that they were the powers used in the process of earth's creation. They believed that all mysteries in the universe could be derived from names, phrases and existing passages of scripture. They used their own shortcut techniques for finding anagrams and other Hidden Meanings. They believed that a person's future could be derived from anagrams of their name.

If this is true, my future definitely will be interesting; hot fanciness indeed! Here are a couple of anagrams of Rush Limbaugh (a topic for a post coming here soon):

Huh! Girls as Bum! (uses the British meaning of 'bum')

This would seem to match his future well if he indeed decides to sponsor the Lingerie Bowl.

Ugh! Shrub Mail!

This describes him pretty well, don't you think?

I also liked this one:

Humbug, Sir Hal!

To test the theory that a person's future is in the anagram of her name I also anagrammed Wendy McElroy, a recent topic on this blog. This is what I got:

Lewd Money Cry!
Mew Once, Dryly.

If you'd like to anagram your own name, the names of your friends or those of your foes, go here.

Thursday, December 25, 2003

A Little Girl and Christmas Church

Mommy and daddy and brother and me are going to church. Church is god's house. You can't actually see god, daddy says. He is invisible. Maybe like fairies. Today is the birthday of baby Jesus. That's why we are going to church. I have new white boots and a white ribbon in my hair.

It is very very early. Really black outside and cold. Mommy is sneezing. She is not well because daddy's uncle and auntie came without telling us first, and mommy had to stay up late to cook and bake more. Mommy didn't want to come to church but daddy said it is just nerves. When I grow up I will have nerves, too.

The church doors are heavvy! It is dark inside, too, with candles in little cups on the walls and lots of people sitting on the benches. They don't talk. All I can hear is coughing.

We sit down at the end of the bench. It is too high and hard, like Grandma's outhouse seat. There are books with songs in them. I can't read them yet. We have to wait a long time before there is music. It is called organ music. First all the people on the little balcony sing. They are good singers. Then everybody sings. One lady sings really high and crackly, and one man sings really slow. He is still singing when everybody else stops. I think it is funny but daddy says god doesn't like little girls who giggle.

Then the minister goes to the front. He wears a dress. He does something at a table and then he starts talking. He says let us pray. Which means cross your fingers tight and close your eyes. He says in the name of the father, the son and the holy guest. God has an uncle visiting, too.

Then there is more music and singing. I really want to sing, too. I don't know the words so I make my own. I sing mom-my, dad-dy, brotherandmee. Mommy pokes me in the side. I am supposed to be quiet.

Then the minister is standing inside a barrel in the wall. I don't know why. He talks a lot. I am beginning to fall asleep. The flames in the candles look like they are dancing. He says in the name of the father and the son and the holy guest again. I think that mommy is crying. Daddy shushes her. If there is daddy god and little boy god, where are mommy god and little girl god? Have they gone visiting?

There is more singing. The candle flames are tied from both ends to the candle. They look like they are all trying to get loose from the candles. I hope that the one next to me wins.

Church is really boring. I am cold and need to pee. I want to go home.

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

Which Lord of the Rings character and personality problem are you? To find out,
click HERE.

I am:
Haldir and his egocentrism.

You are just too damn good for everyone, aren't you? The disdainful demeanor, the cocky drawl...everything about you seems to attest to the fact that not even the quest to destroy the One Ring is truly worthy of your esteemed hospitality. You may be Eru's gift to men, but there is such a thing as humility. Maybe you'll learn that lesson when your attempt to show off at Helm's Deep backfires.


Tuesday, December 23, 2003

Our friend Tom DeLay is helping little children! So nice of him, especially this time of the year.
Common Cause tells more about it:

In a seemingly blatant and unethical attempt to circumvent the new campaign finance laws, Representative Tom DeLay established a charity, "Celebrations for Children", to subsidize donor events at the Republican National Convention. Under the guise of charity, this group is reportedly soliciting donations of up to $500,000 and promising contributors "access" to DeLay and other leaders during the convention. And, access translates into parties in luxury suites and dinner dances on yachts!

How come I never get invited to parties in luxury suites and dinner dances on yachts? I could promise "access" to a goddess and all...


On First Flight:

Said Wilbur Wright, 'Oh, this is grand,
But, Orville, you must understand.
We've discovered all right
The secret of flight -
The question is, how do we land?'
(Frank Richards)

On Media Mergers:

Rupert Murdoch, with glee, shouted:' What
A lof of newspapers I've got!
I've just got to get
The Beekeeper's Gazette
And the War Cry and I've got the lot.'
(Frank Richards)

Interesting that the latter is over twenty years old. In general, limericks tend to leave me cold. Maybe the reason is the large number of so-called 'bawdry' limericks. As E. O. Parrott states in The Penguin Book of Limericks:

The indecent limerick... Its humour is often of the blackest. We are asked to laugh at rape, necrophilia, bestiality and buggery. A great deal of it may be seen as the humour of the Male Chauvinist Pig....
There are anti-Jewish limericks, anti-Irish limericks and, indeed, every kind of racist limerick

This makes limericks sound like a form of primitive hard porn with racist overtones. Even against snakes! Read this one:

There was a young fellow named Fonda
Who was squeezed by a great anaconda;
Now he's only a smear,
With part of him here,
And the rest of him somewhere out yonder.
(Ogden Nash)

No self-respecting anaconda would leave smears behind!
Postscript: I just realized that 'bawdry' may or may not be a word already in existence. I may have made it up. It's intended to carry the meaning of 'bawdy'+'tawdry'. Let me know if it is a real word, or if I have just enriched the English language.

Monday, December 22, 2003

My Christmas List

If I was in the habit of giving Christmas presents or any other presents suitable for this time of the year (which I am not, gods and goddesses already having everything they need and snakes not liking my taste in presents), this is what I would wrap up:

-For George W. Bush: A thinking cap. Thinking is something that can go on inside the roughly spherical object that also serves to hold the ears apart. And no, the ears won't fall off during thinking. The head is admirably suited to multi-tasking.

-For Donald Rumsfeld: A beautifully embroidered sampler for his wall with the following motto:
Macho Does Not Prove Mucho (Zsa Zsa Gabor).

-For John Ashcroft: Fifty gallons of Crisco oil. For self-anointment purposes when he hears the calling. Also a blindfold and a pair of earplugs. So he doesn't have to see naked statues of Justice or hear what just might be his conscience whispering about the consequences of the policies he pushes on the world's poor women.

-For the whole administration: A two-weeks 'no-expenses-paid' trip to Afghanistan, Iraq, Zimbabwe and so on. Live and eat like the natives! Stay in exotic places and see exotic locals die!

Lest you think me biased, please note that all this in good jest, and that I have nothing but astonished admiration towards any of the above parties. I also have a present for Bill Clinton. It has something to do with milking machines.