Bush II: More Fun Than Expected

When Bush won a second term, didn't you get that doomsday feeling? I did. I remember working up a little list of awful things that could happen, just so I wouldn't be too surprised. Implosion of the planet by environmental abuse, explosion by nuclear bombs, Brian getting drafted to Iraq. You know, daydreams.

Granted, all those things might still happen. But Bush's second term seems more and more like a great period of uncomfortable squirming for the Bush crowd and satisfying revelation for the rest of us. He must wish he lost that election. At least then he wouldn't be the jackass sitting on the throne when the mob comes with the guillotine. I know there are still plenty of horrors being wrought daily by this administration, but pardon me if I enjoy this satisfying denouement. It's the part at the end of the movie when they show a little picture of each Bushie alongside a humiliating capsule description of where they are now.

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A Little Ten Plaguesy

Sorry for my absence, Clebketeers, but it was a little Ten Plaguesy around Clebilicious way last week. Food poisoning. Kitty surgery. Shell-less eggs. Disappearance of free cable. (Feel free to pour a drop of wine for each plague, lessening your own cup of joy in recognition of my suffering. Or pour for homies lost--interesting how similar are the two customs.)

Anyway, expect intriguing new posts soon. Will they be about Hennessey and Camilla's quest for oranger egg yolks? Or the delicious denouement of Bush's second term? Chickens roosting, either way. Stay tuned.

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This One's Going Stupid and That One's Going Dumb

Perhaps you're wondering, is Emma a good person? This post should clear up that little matter. For only a person of pristine virtue would teach an afterschool gardening program in deep East Oakland.

What's that you say? Am I getting paid for this supposed selfless act? What difference does it make? Christ, I'm not Ghandi over here.





Since I am not only virtuous, but also charming, I will relate to you a story. If you are familiar with Oakland's own hyphy movement, with its relentless cries of "Go stupid" and "Go dumb," you will appreciate this.










Klarissa, seen up front and proud in the group photo below, is my sassiest gardener. She likes to call me Miss E. She also likes to collect worms. One day, when we were doing a lot of digging, she found two worms and placed them on a board to keep an eye on them. (She would soon be obliged to put them in the compost bin.) The worms began to writhe in frustration at their exposure, flailing their bodies with abandon. Klarissa screeched "Miss E!" until she got my attention, then said, "Look! This one's going stupid and that one's going dumb."



Bonus story: When Klarissa met me last September, she asked what I was. I in turn asked her to clarify. "Like what are you, like Mexican, Puerto Rican..."
I replied that I was Jewish, but she hadn't heard of that.


ABOVE: From left, Jawan, Jose, Antoinette, Aziah, Miss E, Klarissa, [probably the top of Jakhari's head], Nikia, Osiassi (he's Tongan).
WAY ABOVE: Miss E planting tomatoes with top gardeners Jawan and Dylan (he's Belizian).
WAY, WAY ABOVE: On-again, off-again best friends Amber and Nikia do a little pruning.


By the way, do I look pale? Oh right, I'm white.

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USEFUL VOCABULARY: "to son"

son (v.) [fr. Nas] 1. to utterly humiliate, to shame deeply 2. to outdo a competitor to comic effect; as "Your homemade apple pie is gonna son the shit out of that Marie Callender's pie my brother is bringing."

Origins Battle between Nas and Jay-Z c. 2002. Ended in definitive victory for Nas when he sonned Jay with the release of "Ether."

syn. to ether (v.), ethering (n.); as "Damn, when 'Goat on a Cow' by Lolo Starecheski went up against those other radio documentaries at the Third Coast Festival awards, it was one of the great etherings of all time."



"Ether," lyrics samples:

I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten
Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh)
Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face
Y'all some well-wishin, friendly actin, envy hidin snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?

You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-bo hoe

Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas
And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas?
Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas

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Water To Wash The Dishes, Water To Drink...

It's a rainy day
It's a rainy day
It's raining outside
So I can't go out and play
Why do we need the rain
Anyway?

Anyone recognize this bit of spare but lyrical poetry?

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Plamegate, baby

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Plamegate is my favorite. (Don't worry, Val, I know you go by your married name.)

Ms. Wilson testified before the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform Friday, after spending almost four years as the silent hot spy chick at the heart of the CIA leak investigation. I found her previous silence classy and her testimony succinct but fascinating.

If you just want to answer the question of the day by checking out Wilson's blonde mane, go straight to the testimony clip below. But for my fellow Plamegate nerds, some observations first...

Bush adminies and Bob Novak-type creeps have implied all along that the idea of Wilson's cover being blown was bullshit. They loved making it sound like everybody actually knew her status and/or she wasn't an actual spy, but merely a pencil-pusher. (Of course this is tantamount to saying, "I didn't do it, but if I did it wasn't wrong.)

Well V-dub's testimony unequivocally debunks both excuses.

"In the run-up to the war with Iraq I worked in the counter proliferation division of the CIA--still as a covert officer whose affiliation with the CIA was classified," she testified. "I raced to discover solid intelligence for senior policymakers on Iraq's presumed weapons of mass destruction programs." Sounds kinda important.

After the ass-fucking "What I Didn't Find in Africa" (hubby Joe Wilson's now-infamous NYT column) delivered to the Bush administration's rationale for invading Iraq, Bushites also tried to diminish both Wilsons by spreading rumors that Val had sent Joe on his mission to Niger. This made it sound like Joe was a wash-up who needed wifey to find him busywork and Val sound like an unprofessional nepotist.

Well, she set the record straight there, too. "I did not suggest him," Wilson said. "There was no nepotism involved. I didn't have the authority."

Uh! Suck it, Cheney!










QUESTION OF THE DAY:

Who's cuter: me or Valerie Plame Wilson?

HINT: Please say me.

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!*POP*! Quiz

What rhetorical term applies perfectly to these lyrics from Wash Heights rapper Mims?


This is why I'm hot
I'm hot cuz I'm fly
You ain't cuz you not


HINT: It starts with a "T".

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