Some Child Left Behind

I keep thinking how history will judge us, what the folks will make of the ways in which we lied to ourselves about what we’re doing and why we’re doing it.  From the small stuff–like the great “local” support for Eric Crafton’s English-only legislation, which turns out to have been funded all by one out of state group–to the stuff so terrible you almost can’t bear to look at–like us dumping 14,000 kids in Mexico alone, without their parents, because as much as we don’t want non-citizens here, we don’t want to be bothered with making sure we’re not just abandoning children to the wolves.

I don’t know what to say about that kind of stuff, but I don’t feel like I can just let it pass.

America’s Butt Hole

I don’t remember who it was that pointed out that the new Walmart logo contains an element that looks suspiciously like a sphincter, but I’d like to thank you for ruining their commercials for me in a hilarious fashion.

I’ll admit that, when I see that gold butthole in the corner of an ad, I do immediately know that it’s Walmart, but I just can’t imagine that’s the thought Walmart wants me to have when I see their logo.

Here’s my question, and maybe someone will know the answer to this–no, it’s not “How does this get seen by so many people and no one notices?”, it’s “Can a corporation get their money back when they realize that their logo is easily linked to such yuckines?”

Saturday Mornings

I always mean to do something with my Saturday mornings.  On Friday afternoon, I’m all about making mental plans for Saturday mornings.  I’ll go through the rest of the clothes in my closet and get the ones that need to go to Goodwill to Goodwill (surprise, fat chicks of Nashville!  Have a beautiful suit or bridesmaid dress!).  I’ll do dishes.  I’ll walk the dog.  I’ll at least shave my legs.

And here it is, ten fifteen and I’ll I’ve managed to do is make sure that my doctor is covered by Blue Cross so that I can go see her next week.

Well, and listened to this song about 18 times, because, I have to tell you, America, there’s not much you can do standing up that’s legal, that’s more fun than dancing around your place to the dulcet tones of Sublime.

It reminds me of Danny, not for any good reason. I don’t know how you’d do it with the kids and everything, but it would be good fun to get my brothers and Mark and Danny together again.

Maybe I’ll conquer that next Saturday morning…