Tuesday, October 04, 2005

I'm Sorry Gale Sayers, I was forced to ask Rhetorical Questions

Like most of you out there, I was stunned by this weeks big news. Nicholas Cage has named his son Cal-El. This of course makes Nicholas Cage Jor-El, the wisest man on a doomed planet. If I was forced to pick one of those to be true, I'm not sure I could choose. Both seem too horrible to be true, and yet it seems more and more within the realm of possibility. How would you describe a world where the most powerfull person in it asks God for advice and doesn't assume he got a wrong number when The Lord suggests nominating that pretty lil' filly who ran the Texas Lottery to The Supreme Court? Sounds like a doomed rock rife with the kind of thinking that would put creepy aging actors near the top of the think chain.

I once bought a Texas lottery ticket, can I be secretary of the interior? Do we still have one of those? Oh, and how do these big appointments go down? What's the thinking behind em? "Oh yeah, he's a good guy. Met him at a kegger in 79, heck of a wing man, got my nob pollished. Think I'll make him Archduke of Connecticut. What do you mean, there is no Archduke of Connecticut? I'm the God Damn president andI say there is! What's that Dick? You sure I can't make him Archduke? OK, how about Secretary of Defense. He played Linebacker at Yale."

Maybe I'm beind naive considering this appointment illconcieved. Both sides were lined up for a knock-down drag-out poli-scrum and now we're all just confused. Right and Left just stairing stupidly like a pair of Jack Russel pups and the president just turned off the laser pointer. This guy's like a presidential Gale Sayers makes moves so far out of no where he's faked us all of our shoes. It's these oddball in your face convention be damned maneuvers that make him such a great politician and such a terrible president.


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