I was listening to Liberadio this morning and had a thought.
(Yeah, I, too, wish today weren’t filled with half-assed posts, but everyone and their uncle has come here from all corners of the internet to learn about my awesome vagina and I always find it hard to write when I know everyone is watching.)
I don’t even know what to say. I just find this so charming and delightful.
For the past three nights, I’ve had this dream that I have to go to the Nashville Knucklehead’s house and make him and his daughter dinner so that we can then go to a strip club he wants me to invest in. And, frankly, it’s the kind of strip club I would invest in, like the club from Idlewild but with buck-nakedness and sex. Especially if I had my own private box, which, in my dream, I seem to. Though where I’m getting the money to invest in this club, I’m not sure.
But here’s the thing about the dream. Every time I dream it, I’m driving on my way to go make dinner and I go blind, while driving, and my brakes don’t work. I can go slowly, but I must go forward and I cannot see anything but blinding whiteness.
And yet, I still get to the house okay.
But it’s so real that when I got in the car this morning to come to work, I had this moment of panic when I was sure that my brakes didn’t work, even though, they clearly did.
I’m not normally one to argue that there should be requirements on who can run for office. Shoot, I’d like to see the House of Representatives run like jury duty. You vote, you have a chance of being picked to serve.
But it’s things like discovering that four of our state representatives have so little a grasp on how our system works that makes me think that maybe you ought to have to be able to demonstrate a working knowledge of how things work before you can run for office.
I mean, shoot, on the one hand, I don’t care if you want to file eight million lawsuits against the President (though, when you do, don’t expect me to have a whole lot of sympathy when you come back later and piss and moan about frivilous lawsuits). I don’t believe anyone is angry at you, so much as laughing at you and trying to prevent you from making bigger fools of yourselves.
On the other hand, I do expect that you, as an elected official, in charge of making laws, understand what GoldnI points out here.
If you file a lawsuit against someone else, that makes you the plaintiff. That means you have to prove something to the court. You cannot simply walk into the courtroom and say, “Hey judge, we have a suspicion that Obama’s birth certificate may not be real, make him show it to us!” You have to show actual evidence that it may have been falsified, and at that point the judge can decide whether or not to compel Obama to show the birth certificate.
And it is scary to me that these state legislators don’t get that. Jeff, if you do requests, I’m begging you, could you ask them what evidence they have that the birth certificate has been falsified? Because it’s sounding like, from what you report that Glen Casada says, they don’t think it has been. So, maybe a follow-up question should be whether they know what their roles as plaintiffs are and, if they don’t, whether their constituents should be worried about their abilities to understand, make, and pass basic laws.
Tiny Cat Pants 