Author: Dick

The lady in the photo is Frances E. Willard. Today is Frances E. Willard Day. Any questions?

I’m sure a big question you may have is just who is Frances E. Willard and why does she have her own day? From what quick research I was able to find on the Internet, Willard was most associated with the temperance movement. Also from what I gather, Frances E. Willard Day is supposed to be about personal temperance. It’s certainly something to which I will toast.

Willard was an early president of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, which was in the forefront of the movement to rid the U.S. of those liquid evil spirits. It took awhile, but the efforts of people like Willard and the old hatchet-wielding, bar-wrecking bat Carrie Nation, eventually prevailed upon ratification of the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution in 1919 which ushered in prohibition. The 21st Amendment was passed 14 years later, repealing prohibition, after Americans tired of drinking hair tonic and kerosene in their cocktails.

Prohibition was a noble experiment — in crime, corruption and being generally overzealous. So I shall hoist a glass later this evening to thee, old Frances E. Willard, you were one of the people who made Americans realize just how much they like to drink their alkie-hol.

Shall I go left or go right? Should I even go forward? Perhaps I should just stop. Or I could jump the tracks and go get a cold drink. But would they dock my pay? Would I be letting down the team? Would I be called a quitter? A cold drink really would be nice. However, I still will have the original choice to make when and if I return, which is whether to go left or go right. Damn choices! What’s that? You say they’re adding a third track straight ahead? EEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIII!

Harriet Miers as a young girl admiring the president. And Toto too.

Norm had an entertaining idea. No, not Norm from Cheers, Norm from the American Enterprise Institute. Maybe he was joking and maybe he wasn’t in his piece for Huff Po today in which he laid out this scenario: Cheney would resign as VP. GW would appoint GHW Bush as VP. GW would then resign. President GHW Bush would then appoint his new pal Bill Clinton. Entertaining? Yes. Reinventing the wheel? Yes. I don’t think that would be a very good idea at all.

Perhaps the time has come in our republic that we put our government on autopilot. We could dissolve all three branches and have this big Rube Goldberg-looking machine in the Oval Office. Perhaps it could even spit fire like the Wizard’s ruse.

The machine could be programmed with witty and insightful sayings. It would be right up the White House press corps’ alley. Every four years the country could decide whether we should keep the machine or put real people back into our government in order to totally screw up our lives. I’m talking about real conservatism here. The government that governs least? Why the machine wouldn’t govern at all.

Could a machine be any worse that our own band of misfits who run our federal government? I think not.

I survived a freakin’ hurricane and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
No, I didn’t really get the T-shirt. I’m not sure about walking around advertising that I survived a disaster. On one hand, such a display has some merit. It’s like, no hurricane is going to bring ME down. But on the other hand, how does wearing the shirt give assurances that you really survived the hurricane as opposed to getting way the hell away to where you didn’t even feel the hurricane? Oh what the hell, I guess I ought to let people have their fun. I’m still not going to buy a T-shirt.

These guys are still around the mall. No hurricane could run them off. Now I don’t want to bore you with my medical history, but needless to say I have quite a plethora of issues with my neck and back. So you think I would let these guys do their magic for $12. Nope. I haven’t tried it, yet. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I can find all kinds of other ways to spend $12. Perhaps on digital photo editing lessons.

I’ve vowed to be on the lookout for bumper stickers — funny, stupid, ironic, moronic, etc. — these days. This one caught my eye in the mall parking lot. Of course, I would rather watch a Tom Cruise TV interview than be around the nervous chihuahua. I’m also sure that YOUR chihuahua is smart, relatively speaking, meaning relative to its brain size. Hey, it’s a little bitty dog. I suppose I just have this ungodly fear of having my ankles mauled by these little mutts. And you know, what good are your feet without your ankles? Huh?

Hot off the wires from the Associated Press:

“NEW YORK – Does Vinnifer have the same ring to it as Brangelina? Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn were photographed kissing, possibly confirming that their relationship has grown romantic.”

So, was it serious tongue hockey? Was a hoofed animal involved? We’re they dancing around a fire in the middle of the street with throngs of Wiccan onlookers? Were they kissing Tom DeLay’s mugshot? Exactly where were they kissing? When did they kiss and when did they know about it? Was whipped cream involved? Were they kissing for Katrina relief? Were they kissing for the hell of it? Were they kissing so they could become subjects of a major AP story? What did it sound like when they kissed? If they kissed in the forest, would a tree fall on them? Did the kiss come from sharing a plate of spaghetti with no eating utensils? How did Jen’s breath smell? Did it smell like Listerine or Bud Light? Did Vince smell like Old Spice? Did Vince smell like New Orleans after Katrina? What will they name their children? Will they have a dog? Will they have a pet tiger named Adolf? Will they kiss the tiger? Will they kiss the dog? Will they kiss the children after playing serious tongue hockey with the dog and the tiger?

Ah, you see what I mean? So many questions. So, so, so, many questions.