Facing the truth about politicians hurts

I really enjoy watching Anderson Cooper so I try to never miss his show AC360. He’s hawt. Anyway, I was watching Friday and it seems John Edwards (who has only been labeled 'hawt' by Larry Craig) has finally admitted he had this affair that he’d been denying for an eternity. Well, almost a year. But he’s not off the hook yet, and is obviously feeling the pressure from yet another accusation. In response to rumors that he impregnated his mistress, he’s now resorted to quoting Michael Jackson lyrics. “She says I am the one. But the kid is not my son.”

Seriously though, I like to think I’m fair 99% of the time. So, the truth: John’s mistress Rielle Hunter isn’t the one pressing the paternity issue. In fact, she doesn’t even want a paternity test done. It’s the National Enquirer. It seems they have a picture of Edwards in a hotel room holding the baby. The magazine is apparently trying to change its image from the number one source of heat and toilet paper for the homeless to America’s number one news source.

But I’ve known for a long time and have accepted the fact that politicians cheat on their spouses. Who cares about that? I found something newsworthy about Senators McCain and Obama and, well, to say I’m totally shocked and disappointed would be an understatement. It’s short so you should probably read it first. But proceed to the story with caution and keep your legs crossed. Remember, everything that oozes from these two stems from their one shared goal… getting lots of tail in the Lincoln Room. It’s just a lot easier that way.

I must admit when reading the article it really pained me to see a few of the candidates’ music choices.

ABBA? I can just imagine McCain with his wife’s iPod not long before saying that.

Sheryl Crow? Bob Dylan? These are on Obama’s short list? I’m speechless. I had him pinned as a Kenny Rogers fan.

And of course McCain just had to throw in, “But I like Usher too.”

Holy pandering politicians!

But what really cracked me up was what McCain essentially said about a character in the last movie he’s seen.



I think he may be on to something.

Just kidding, I think Harrison Ford should kick his ass.

Hurray for summer.

Hurray for vacation time. I’m looking forward to visiting my homeland. It‘s been two years since our last trip. It’s a 14-hr drive that always turns into a 16-hr event because the kids need to pee every few hours… and get one hot meal… so when we finally arrive I’ll see brand new worry lines on my mother’s face. Wait… she doesn’t know exactly when we’re leaving, so I’ll try to keep it that way. I‘m sure I‘ll fail miserably. She has a way of finding out things. If only I were an only child… but then I’d have no one to sympathize, or top my stories of pain and woe.

Hurray for beer. A tall cold one always tastes great on a warm day, and is probably one of my favorite things about summer. I really don’t enjoy beer much the rest of the year. I will have one or two on occasion but I have to be in the right mood for it. I don’t understand this summer phenomenon. Before I had kids I used to drink beer nearly every day through all seasons, and like water on my days off from work. I couldn’t get back into a regular drinking schedule after the first kid. I’m such a loser.

Hurray for ice cream. The kids have a chant that goes like this: I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream. Then Mom screams. They always get what they want in the end.

Hurray for baseball. I hope the new ballpark is open this summer as planned, and is still cheaper than a movie. I’m not a tightwad, I just have trouble sneaking kids into the theater, and after the first two it starts getting spendy. The popcorn is like crack and priced like gold. And you can’t have popcorn without a three or four dollar container of pop that could drown a small child.

At Cobb Field everything was reasonably priced which made for a true day of fun. Holy crap, I’ve turned into my father.

Anyway, fun time with the kids is important and I’m always happier when it doesn’t cost too much green. Yep, I’m my dad.

Not only do I enjoy ball games, but my kids will come along, and getting ALL of my kids together to spend time with mom is a tough feat these days. Teenagers are funny people. The strange thing is I can relate.

Hurray for the drive-in, but it’s only for the kids. And when the kids are happy, I bitch on the inside.

Movies just don‘t get me excited like they did years ago. When I became a grown-up (some time in the 90’s) I started seeing a trend of crap peddled by Hollywood, so I thought, like I’ll die if I don’t see Arnold in his latest multi-million dollar deal. I think the way I feel means I’m getting old. I’d guess my parents lost their love for movies when Clint Eastwood stopped starring in Westerns. For me, cinema died when Harrison Ford disappeared. He is a true stud. I’m glad he’s making a comeback of sorts in this new Indiana Jones flick, but I didn’t see him in the last three Star Wars episodes! I still want my money back. Darned kids. Yoda hypnotize them so, why does, hmm?.

Hurray for Independence Day. Our town really gets into the celebration and stretches it out over a few days with parades, fireworks, etc… and people are always on stage trying desperately to convince me that they are entertaining. I’m not like the rest of the drunken sheep, I only applaud when I mean it.

Rodeos are fun, but only when Cowboy Poker is played. There’s something special about watching a live group of snuff-chewers sitting around a card table in a ring with a bull. How does your poker face work when you have over 1,000 lbs of irate animal (complete with horns) breathing down the back of your neck? At some point the fear reflex kicks in and running for your life becomes a bit more important. In fact, the mean bucking machine doesn’t really allow time for a game to get started. To see grown men scrambling and crapping their pants is always a hoot.

We can light fireworks for two weeks straight if we feel like it. This can be fun, depending on who your neighbors are. There is a guy on our street who goes to bed early, and he will call the cops, even though he knows full well we aren‘t breaking any law. So out of respect we resist whipping out the noise makers on weeknights. Who am I kidding? The truth is we don’t want the cops hating us any more than they already do. They get really annoyed by his phone calls, so we are kind to the guy just in case we ever need to call 911. As far as I know there aren’t any specific fireworks that are banned because I’ve seen it all. Then again, I don’t have a copy of the city code handy. It may not be a defense but it works for me.

Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, especially when you‘ve got a deputy watching your every move because you justifiably insulted a woman, who turned out to be his wife. I didn’t start it, but I like to finish things in a memorable way. I guess the truth really can hurt. This is why I have a newfound love for attorneys. You never know when you’ll need one on your side, which is better than having one on your back. But it’s good when they have your back. But not your rear. What am I talking about?

What do you like about summer?