Cindy McCain's Humiliation, Mortification and Cross to Bear

It strikes me as vaguely ironic that Michele Obama recently landed on Vanity Fair's best dressed list--but not Cindy McCain.

Recently I participated in a polite, civilized, pina colada-fueled discussion about the two presidential candidates.

The other party voiced their intent to vote for John McCain.

I stated my intent not to do so.

"I really like his wife," the other party said. "But I know once she's in the White House, she'll get a lot of harassment."

"Why?" I said. "Because of her drug problem?" (Admittedly, this was a bit of a dig. And I really meant to say, past drug problem).

"No—because she's attractive," came the reply.

I was silent. And bewildered. I elected not to proceed further.

Western North Carolina Landslide Fatalities

Western North Carolina landslides have killed 6 people since 2003. These deaths should have prompted an urgent landslide awareness-prevention plan but North Carolina lawmakers have failed to act.

The absence of hazardous land regulation and risk disclosure is not unique to North Carolina. In fact many governments neglect to mandate standards that would prevent these tragedies.

Death by Landslide

When a landslide causes a fatality it is generally classified an accidental unavoidable event, but in one woman's death a coroner has concluded otherwise.


Sure, cried the tenant men, but it's our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. Even if it's no good, its still ours. That's what makes it ours-being born on it, working it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.

We're sorry. Its not us. It's the monster. The bank isn't like a man. Yes, but the bank is only made of men.

No, you're wrong there-quite wrong there. The bank is something else than men. It happens that every bank in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it. The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It's the monster. Men made it, but they can't control it.

John Steinbeck-The Grapes of Wrath-Chapter 5

Why Sarah Palin Is Irrelevant and an Admittedly Boring Topic

Let's put an end to Palin Panic. Let's give ourselves one more day—today, September 10th—to talk about her. Then—no more.

Palin means nothing to this election. It's all about McCain and Obama.

When I think of Palin, I envision a beautiful helium balloon ascending into a sun-filled, blue sky. Fluffy clouds scud by. The balloon is pretty. Children point and squeal with delight. But soon it will be a filthy, shredded, animal-choking mess—hanging in a tree, or lying on a creek bed. No longer admired; only reviled.

Here's why Palin is practically irrelevant to the election outcome. First of all, she's currently enjoying one hell of a short-lived honeymoon. She's being sequestered and "protected" from the press. Is that not curious behavior for a politician?

I Hereby Exhort You to Avoid Canned Moose

Do you happily anticipate dining on canned moose for the next eight years?

Sarah Palin exhorted her followers to pray for a pipeline in Alaska. In that same spirit, I'm asking you to consider donating a small amount of your time to Obama For America.

I'm giving a little of my time to help. Today I made phone calls to undecided voters, in an effort to get a sense of their decision-making process. It was interesting. It was colorful. It was funny. It was…sobering. But once I got started, it was easy. And fun!

On Saturday night, I plan to do some data entry.

Did you know that volunteering can enhance your psychological well-being? And who can't use some help in that department?

So--This is Winston Salem

Yesterday afternoon I walked through our neighborhood to do an errand.

Apparently copious quantities of spores had blown through the area. Countless manicured lawns had sprouted McCain-Palin yard signs. They were all over the place.

In this neighborhood of more than a hundred homes, only one has displayed Obama signage, beginning prior to the Primary.

I finally found the opportunity to stop by and introduce myself.

I rang the bell.

A woman came to the door, simultaneously talking into a phone and attempting to restrain a friendly barking dog. She put the call on hold.

"May I help you?" "Uh, I just wanted to stop by and meet you," I stammered. "We're Obama supporters. We moved in six months ago."

She got off the phone and invited me in.


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