So, I have my answer. The Cubs rule. I thought long and hard about it. Mostly, I played my baseball game for the PS2, and was signed by them. And you can ask Christy, I put a lot of effort and research into that game. Also, I thought back to two of my favorite movies of all time, The Blues Brothers and Ferris Bueller's Day Off, both of which have a scene with something involving the Cubs (Elwood Blues puts the address for Wrigley Field down for his driver's license, and Ferris, Cameron and Sloane go to a Cubs game). Also, Will Ferrell impersonating Harry Caray is one of the funniest things I heard in Iraq. I am officially a Cubs fan. I am even thinking about buying a hat. So there. CUBS WIN!!!
And it's all common sense. I don't care if you identify yourself as a Democrat, Republican, or even if you're part of the Natural Law Party (it's a real party, go ahead and google it). The reason that one of the "former" presidential candidates wouldn't make a good vice presidential candidate is simple: you can't spend your entire nomination campaign pointing out someone's every flaw, especially why they aren't a "true" member of your party, and then want them to complete your ticket.
Can you imagine Obama or McCain saying something like, "I mean sure...I said that they were a few french fries short of a happy meal. And dug up every piece of dirt on them I could find. And sure, four months ago, I would have kicked their dog in the face had I been given the opportunity. I told you every little nasty thing I could find out about them. But I was only kidding! They're really swell! Trust me!"
Nobody can say something like that and sound remotely sane. And, should they somehow be able to pull it off, it will not unite their respective parties. If anything, it will make their voters leave for the other party. The voters fought long and hard for their candidates to win the nomination. Then Obama and McCain turn around, and, in effect, poop right on their dinner plates. "Thanks for all the help, and for liking me more than that yahoo, but, you see, you were wrong." It would sure make me flop my vote.
So, in short, to keep up the already flimsy view of the candidates sanity, they cannot expect the voters to unite behind them if they run with someone who they spent the past however many months as a political opponent. It just won't work.
But, hey, you're reading political advice from someone who wrote in Big Bird for President in 2004, so I guess you'll have to think for yourself.
Songs that have been stuck in Patrick's head, and so he's going to copy and past up the lyrics here for you to read.
The Happiest Place on Earth by: Desaparecidos (Lyrics in italics have been edited for the very young and immature)
I want to pledge allegiance to the country where I live I don't want to be ashamed to be American But opportunity, no it don't exist It's the opiate of the populace We need some harder cheese now The truth's getting around Each public school is a halfway house Where the huddled masses sober up and up Enough? There's not enough To fatten the cows and feed all of us. It's just a rationing of luck What can't be bought gets raffled off. Oh you, good you, shed greed on thee, Your shining sea turned a dirty green From the industry off the shores of New Jersey I got a letter from the army so I think that I'll enlist I'm not brave or proud of nothing I just want to kill something Too bad that nowadays you just point and click Swing low satellite, hot white chariot In the computer's blue glare bombs burst in the air There was a city once now nothing's there Our freedom comes at their expense it makes sense does it? Dollars and cents: they're stretching barbed wire across the picket fence That's surrounding your housing development In case you lack the confidence Oh you, my you give strength to thee These amber waves purple majesty is nothing but Backdrops for Disney Look up close it's superimposed On a blank blue screen yea its fantasy Ninja magical The dream floats like a chemical Through each snapped synapse Television past that is beautiful No more No more No more
I wonder if this song has anything to do with my cynical view of the state of politics? Hmmm...
p.s. On a completely random note, my wife's grandma has recent pictures of her with Willie Nelson. How rad is that? Christy posted them on her blog.
Generally, I don't have a problem with most people. Even given mankind's natural knack for being slightly mentally incompetent, or the tendency to be merely hairless yard apes, I think I have fairly decent people skills, and can get along with almost anyone. However, there is one type of person that drives me absolutely crazy. Were I alone with them, and there were no moral, ethical, or theological consequences, I can't promise that they would make it out alive, let alone all in one piece. I am referring to the genetic accidents that feel the urge to read everything out loud.
A point of clarity. I am not talking about little children who are first learning to read. Practice makes perfect. When first starting out, I'm all for reading as much as you can. By all means, read to me every single billboard that we pass driving down the interstate. Layton Hills Mall now has a Cinnabon? Heck, we can pull over when we pass by to sample their wares. The sooner you can read for yourself, the sooner I can get you hooked on some Nietzsche or Kierkegaard, or even some Kant.
However, once you have passed, oh let's say, the age of 10, you no longer need to read everything out loud. I don't care that Cheez-its are made with real cheddar cheese. I really don't care that it says so six different times on the same box. You don't have to keep turning the stupid box and reminding me. I got you the first time. And I didn't care then, either. And who knew that the white board markers that you are using were made in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Well, I did, after you read it to me. And I'm willing to bet that, since they all came in the same package, they all were made in the same place. I'll thank you very kindly not to check each one and read them all to me.
I get it. Huuked on Fonix werked fer yue. You're a genius. Just spare me and the rest of the world from your ignorance. Some village somewhere is missing their idiot, and I you read your way back home, I'm sure they would be happy to see you again.
Dear Linkin Park, Stop. There is no reason for you to even exist anymore. I get it, trust me. When you were growing up your mom didn't hug you enough, and your dad didn't take you on that camping trip he promised, and you were cut from the track team when you tripped over a hurdle and broke your arm, and that girl you wanted to take to the prom told you she was a lesbian so she couldn't go with you, even though when you showed up to the prom later that night with your date/cousin, you saw her with the starting quarterback. Your teen years were hard. And, admittedly, they have helped you see success. You won two Grammys, for crying out loud. Applause all around for duping the people who already have shallow taste in music into thinking what you make really is music. And you've sold over 50 million albums. Well done.
But, there is a time to stop singing about how angry your dad makes you, and now is the time. Stop, before it gets even more silly. I know for a fact that there are people who were going to go and see Coheed & Cambria, until they found out that you were touring with them, and they couldn't stomach thinking that some of their money would go to you. You're not only hurting other bands who actually make music, you're hurting yourself. The longer you go on, the more your fans turn into rabid nut-jobs. Not even frat boys will play your music. That has to be a sign, since they still play Soulja Boy, and that lost it's flair after about two days.
Thank you in advance, A supporter of all things music (you're just not it)
So, yesterday may have taken about 5 years off my life, and those are probably going to be the good years, meaning that I'll still have the same amount of years left where I eat through a tube.
Situation one: my mom is up for a few days to help us out with Tegan. Yesterday, she had to go and return her camera because it was dumb, but she couldn't because the battery in her van had died. Like the loving son I am, I helped her disconnect the battery so she could take it in to Auto Zone and have it tested. Sure enough, it was a gonner, so she bought a new one, and I helped her put that one in, too. A problem arose when I finally connected the terminals. The van's alarm (i.e. lots of honking a few inches from where my nose was) went off. Good thing I used the bathroom shortly before, because otherwise, Tegan wasn't the only person that would need some changing.
Situation two: I had to run up to campus so that I could turn in a financial aid thing. I'm hoping that having a baby makes us poor enough so that I can go to school for cheap-as-free. As I was passing the Health Department, I noticed a lot of cars, like more than are normally there. And like anyone, I looked at them. When I turned my head back around, literally 2 seconds later, a plastic shopping bag was flying at my windshield. Does anyone out there know just how much a flying plastic bag can look like an R.P.G. (and that doesn't stand for Role Playing Game)? Just about pooped myself again.
I had thought that I was pretty much okay, at least as far as the P.T.S.D. goes. I can tolerate fireworks, when cars backfire I don't think that someone is coming for me, and have even been able to drive through traffic circles again. But I'm scared of a plastic bag, folks. This doesn't make me too optimistic about the future.
Yes, creepy as it is, I'm now a daddy. Our baby girl was born this morning at 8:38. We had come in at 5:30 to see if they could turn her manually since she was a breech baby. They tried, and she even made them think that her head was turning, but from the time they stopped turning to the 15 seconds later when they checked her position on the ultrasound she was back up. So, we had a c-section done, and it ended up being a good thing, too. The cord was wrapped around her neck twice. I wouldn't want to turn head down, either. She was 7 lbs 10 oz, and was 19 inches long. We decided to name her Tegan Isabella, because those were the two names we liked the most, and we couldn't decide between them. And, like any proud dad, I totally had to post this and show off my little girl.
So, I have my answer. The Cubs rule. I thought long and hard about it. Mostly, I played my baseball game for the PS2, and was signed by them. And you can ask Christy, I put a lot of effort and research into that game. Also, I thought back to two of my favorite movies of all time, The Blues Brothers and Ferris Bueller's Day Off, both of which have a scene with something involving the Cubs (Elwood Blues puts the address for Wrigley Field down for his driver's license, and Ferris, Cameron and Sloane go to a Cubs game). Also, Will Ferrell impersonating Harry Caray is one of the funniest things I heard in Iraq. I am officially a Cubs fan. I am even thinking about buying a hat. So there. CUBS WIN!!!
