The Show Ain’t Over ‘Til . . .
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This three hundred and fifty pound woman shows up at a run-down circus, looking for a job as a flying trapeze artist. The incredulous ringmaster gives her an audition, and is so impressed he tells her she’s hired. There’s one condition: she goes on last. On opening night, the other acts are so bad, some of the spectators begin to leave. The ringmaster, seeing this, runs out and cries, “Don’t go now, folks, the show ain’t over till the fat lady swings!”
I refuse to take credit for that. Blame them.
I started this morning with a job interview at a local veterinary clinic. They wanted a vet’s assistant, three days a week, four hours a day. I really liked the place and the doctor, but they seemed leery of the fact that I wanted them as a second job. I wanted to pat the nice doctor’s hand and tell her, “Dear, you’re only offering twelve hours a week. All you’re going to get is high school kids (which they also didn’t want) and folks like me who need a second job.” Ah well. I’ll keep my fingers crossed anyways. It seemed like a nice place and I don’t think I’d mind the work.
Out in the big bad world, Jimmy Carter’s trying to broker a peace treaty between Israel and Palestine, and having about as much luck at it as anyone ever does. Y’know, I hate to make sweeping generalizations like this, but damn, that’s a contrary bunch of people over there. It seems sometimes like the Middle East is packed full of people who are gleefully cutting off their own noses to spite their faces. You’d think that they’d be tired of killing each other by now. I mean, damn, they’ve been at it for centuries. Granted, our fucking around over there the last few decades hasn’t exactly settled anything down, but they didn’t really need our help at being pissed at each other.
Apparently, there’s a bunch of people who are cranky about Jimmy Carter being over there, too. My thoughts on this: “What the hell were they doing to fix the problem?” Oh yeah, that’s right, not a fucking thing. Get out of the way and let the man work. He might get something done.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the judge in the FLDS polygamy case has ordered the 400 kids to be DNA tested in an attempt to sort out the family relationships. I love how they keep trotting all these humble, Amish-looking wives out in front of the cameras to weep piteously, and keep claiming it’s all about the kids, and they want their kids back, and yadda and so forth. Oh, bullshit. You sanctimonious fucks have been raping and molesting pre-teen girls, and now you’re scared to death you’re going to jail for it. Assholes. I love this quote:
State prosecutors have argued that the FLDS church encourages underage marriages and births, subjecting children to sexual abuse or the imminent risk of abuse. “Rulan” said sect members are reconsidering whether girls under 18 should have sex with adult men.
”Many of us perhaps were not even aware of such a law,” he said. “And we do reconsider, yes. We teach our children to abide the law.”
”Reconsidering whether girls under eighteen should be having sex with adult men”. Nice. “Didn’t know it was against the law”. Oh, for fucksake, who doesn’t know that? Age of Consent is a pretty standard thing in the US. The age itself may vary a bit state to state, but we all have one.
Finally, some news about “eating green” (which is the most asinine eco-friendly buzzword I’ve encountered lately): Eating Green: Food Type Trumps Distance.
Next time you find yourself standing in the grocery store, agonizing over whether your green conscience permits you to buy the garlic shipped in from China, relax. You’ll do more to reduce the greenhouse gas impact of your diet by taking the ground beef out of your cart.
That’s the finding of new analysis by Christopher Weber and H. Scott Matthews of Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, Pa., who compared the greenhouse gas emissions caused by producing and transporting various categories of food in the United States.
And with that, I’m out, folks. That novel ain’t gonna write itself.













April 21st, 2008 at 1:14 pm
Saw some of that footage this morning - the ladies in vintage style dresses lined up on some kind of upper porch or balcony, looking down at the throngs of media types.
You know what it reminded me of?
Every whorehouse in every western movie ever made.
The ladies looked weary, put-upon, and sick to death of the whole world.
They were all young, fairly pretty, and already more jaded than … than something really quite jaded indeed. I wanted to add a barrelhouse piano soundtrack and some cowboys in the street below, and the picture would have been perfect. Sad, isn’t it.
squatch Reply:
April 22nd, 2008 at 3:10 am
MAN!
I was thinking the same thing!
They look like “Miss Kitty’s” less-tartish sister from Gunsmoke.
Or all the women from “Little House on the Prarie” if there were more abuse and pedophelia in Walnut Grove.