Sometimes I only get one picture I feel is worth posting...

It took some time, but I finally left MySpace,
booked faces and twitters have taken its place
Too much information on those old sites I visited
I'm fine confined, to a hundred forty letters limited

I've sat here  so long, I have back and butt-aches
I only leave for chips, cokes, and nature-call breaks
Linked in, logged on, I bought 600 friends more
Don't know a one, but  how else to keep score?

Dearly blogged, we are gathered here
to raise crops on Farmville and brew virtual beer
to link to new friends and post silly jokes,
to drink Virtual Marys whilst sending out pokes

What new social networks will be the next crazes?
Instead of words typed, will friends smiley-face us?
You can count on this, cyber-friends and relations,
The next big thing won't enhance communication.

Paradis (pronounced Pair-a-dee) is an unincorporated area of St. Charles Parish, Louisiana. Justin Wilson would not sound out of place there, but you would...

(Act I, scene 1; Perry is opening up the shop for the day. The phone rings, and he answers....)

Perry: Paradis Lost and Found, dis is Perry, me.

Des: Halo,'statue?

Perry: Yeah, I said dat, dis is me, Des. where y'at, you?

Des: Pulling up. (sounds of a poorly tuned Ford truck come from outside the store)

Perry: You late, you. I had ta open da store, me.

Des: well, open da door, an'  I'll finish dere.

Perry: You gotta key, you. You forget how to use it?

Des: I can't find dat ting nowhere I look.

Perry (sighs): Okay, I come open door dere. Don' be tellin' no customers 'bout you losin' dat key.

Des: Dat's easy, we ain't had a customer all week, us. (They hang up)

(Opens the front door, Des walks past with a sack; Perry turns on the 'Open' sign.)
Perry: Today is da day, I got dis feelin', me.

Des: You better take someting for dat.

Perry: Someting? Like a smarter partner? Dis is a good feeling.

Des: So is dis (pulls two plastic 16-oz. glasses of frozen pink liquid from his sack).

Perry: Where you get dem daquiris?

Des: Where you tink? The Parrot Ice, is where, dere.

Perry: Dey open dis early now, dem?

Des: Shirley was dere, getting ready ta' open, dere. Dese are from last night's batch.
         She gives them to me, I trow out da big garbage sacks for her.

Perry: Des, you one big spender, you. (A car pulls up in front of the Paradis Lost and Found)
           See dat? A customer, in de first hour. Look busy.

     (a nicely dressed man and his good-looking wife get out of the car.
    They are not locals, as Perry doesn't know them. Or their car.)

Perry: nice lookin' lady, see dat rack?

Des: Dat's a pair a' D's, 38 double.

(The door opens, the couple walks in)

Des: Good morning, you!

Perry: How you all are?

(Customer reaches out to shake Perry's hand first.)

Customer: Pete Thomas, my wife, Ann

Perry: Welcome! (shakes hand) Perry, Des(points to his daquiri-sipping partner.)

Ann: I thought it was pronounced Para-DEES

Des: No, mamou always said Des, short for Desmond.

Ann: No, I meant the town...

Perry: So you lose a ting? Or you found someting?

Pete: Both. We lost two of the Scary movies

Des: Dat Saw? Char, dat was a scary one.

Perry: Silence of Dem Lambs?

Pete: no, no, the Scary movie franchise. We lost One and Three.

Des: Dey ain't scary, dem movies.

Pete: No, they're satires, you know, parodies.

Perry: Para-dee

Pete: It was two. So plural, parodies

Des: Is only one town(looks at Perry, raises his eyebrow)

Pete: (Looks at Ann, raises eyebrow) Has anyone turned in any DVD's?

Perry: No, when you lose dem?

Pete: At a picnic ground off Hwy. 90. They kept the kids entertained.

Ann: I could use a daiquiri right now.

Des: Dey got 'em in Parrot Ice.

Ann: (hearing paradise, says huffily)Well, I'm sure I don't want one That bad.

Perry: Is just 'round da corner, dere. (to Pete) You look good?

Pete: Say what? Oh, yeah, we looked all over dat.. that picnic area.
          And that is where we found these. 
    (Ann hands him two fuzzy dice connected by a string.

Des: Dat's my pair a'  dice!

Perry: Dey hang from your look-back mirror. How you lose dem?

Des: When I took out Darlene, she said she liked my pair 'o' dice.
         Den she get all mad, her, when I tol' her dat she got one fine pair 'o' thighs.
         She trew dem out de truck.

Perry: Darlene Perrault? She too young even for you, horn-dog.

Des: No not her, Darlene DuBois. But she got dem Perrault eyes, kinda crooked, you know.

Pete: I guess we helped you, but you can't help us. That's a real shift in the paradigm.

Des: You lost a pair 'o' dimes? We got us a metal-finder. Still in da box.

Pete: No, you see a paradigm is a ...

Ann: Come on, honey. We'll be late for,...well for something. (she turns to leave. Des makes an hourglass shape with his hands.)

Perry: (As the door closes behind the couple). So you like a pair 'o' dose pants?

Des: Ol' Noser an' Bullet chased down a pair 'o' does last week, on our huntin' lease. Dey was pantin, dem.

Perry: (shakes his head)Des, I tol' Father Cheramie at the Diocese to pray for you. He said a pair 'o' Dioceses couldn't pray enough. 

(Curtain)

1)Frozen, microwaveable corn dogs are atrocious.

2)Canned chili tastes like dog food

3)People who eat white bread would eat boiled newspaper, if it was smothered in ketchup

4)Potato chips are not gourmet food, even when they are sprinkled with sea salt and cracked pepper.

5)Speaking of ketchup, if  you use it in spaghetti sauce, or As spaghetti sauce, you are a dork. Sorry, but it's true.

6)Salt is not a flavor, and nothing 'needs more salt'.

7)Taco Bell's fare is MINO(Mexican In Name Only).

8)The chocolate in an M&M is of a very poor quality.

9)Coke in glass bottles tastes better. I don't know why, but it is true. Fountain coke sucks; why do you buy it? Coke has a bite to it, a tang that Pepsi lacks. But Diet Pepsi is better than Diet Coke; go figure.

10)Although it is great as gravy, or poured over baking meats, nobody has ever sat down and eaten a bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup.

Call me a shill, call me a corporate whore, call me when the check clears. Chide me, reprove me, express aghastness at my naked greed, but click the ads as you do so.

Yes, I have partnered with Google who, having noticed that my viewers ranked in the 92-100% of the coolest people on the planet, wanted a piece of that demographic. From now on, whatever I blog about will accompanied with ads that are deemed relevant to the topic discussed. How they do this is a mystery; I am guessing poorly-paid Malaysians working 14-hour days, matching key words from my blog to a databank of ready-made ads, and pasting the results on my site, all the while laughing at my deficient command of my native tongue. Chortle til the durian stop stinking, Amir and Farah, which of us lives in a structure with CH&A and electrical wiring that doesn't call for a prayer to Allah every time it works?

As near as I can tell from a hasty read of the legalese, the checks should start arriving monthly sometime in Mid-November. Will this compromise my art? Will I be less outrageous, fearing off driving away my customer base? Or will I be more outrageous, hoping to attract more viewers in this attempt to leverage my brand?

Actually, I am more curious as to what ads will appear with what subject. So far, it has been what I expected, my photographic blog of our recent trip to Colorado was paired with ads for real estate in Colorado Springs, direct tv hook-ups in the same city, and a B&B or two. My last pic post matched the chain-saw carvings with ads for tools, and arts and craft lessons, I think it was (I will look later and change this if my memory did fail, If I remember to check, that is. Sometimes my memory fails).

Anyway, if my readers will do their part(hint: click!*), I promise not to pepper my posts with obvious commercial tie-ins (the body was half-in, half-out, of an Ikea™ chair of impeccable design and craftmanship. The glass of Glen Morangie® spilled onto the carpet was more of a shock than seeing her like this; what a waste of one of the world's finest single-malts, I thought to myself, one of the last locally-owned distilleries. Sighing, I called the cops on my Razr©...), and let the chips fall where they may. Intel Semiconductor chips, that is, why settle for less?

*I don't think that I'm supposed to encourage mass-clicking, nor use bots for same in order to beef up my profits.
   Nor enter into "Click-mine-and-I'll-click-yours' agreements. There was someting about bad language, too.
  Tough s#*t, Google, I'm my own man.

Manitou Springs, Colorado

We bought a tiny wood carving of a bear for our friend down the road,
but we wanted to buy the big ones, which were carved with a chainsaw.

This fellow was hitching a ride on our tow

 I snuck up on him and got this shot, just as he saw me...

 Human approaching, must remain calm, nonchalant...

 Sorry, gotta run!

afternoon fishing

The one I love doesn't have much charm
My sweetie's neither sweet nor petite
But I don't need beauty or loving arms
When I frolic in between the balance sheets

Of my sub-chapter 'S' corporation
My favorite artificial entity
We avoided any taxing situations
As I registered the firm in Ta-hiti

The Supreme Court said that you're a person
You've got the same rights as me
it ain't no crime to buy a public servant
with cash or preferred securities

I had to share my love with someone
You see, incorporating takes three
To my wife, to be fair, went a two-percent share
five points more to my shady attorney

I never wanted a limited partner
And I was never a good company man
Now I write off  hookers as advisors
who help my business to expand

I love my sub-chapter 'S' corporation...(Fade out)

After being mildy awed by Pike's Peak on Saturday, Sunday found us being wowed to death by the Garden of the Gods, a park between Colorado Springs and Manitou Springs.

 
Oh, please! You're acting like a tourist!

 I see faces and figures, all looking rightward

My wife climbed up there all by herself. Me so proud!

The Balancing Rock, just before this brat pushed it a little too far!

 
A Paraguayan folk harp, but you knew that already.

 
Not all the strange formations were mineral. His hair is a darker purple than this shot indicates


But we were all fascinated by this guy, who was teaching....

...this guy the ropes. And the pitons, and the placing of feet, hands, and fingers, in order to avoid.....

 
...this. He recovered nicely, and amused us with his purple language

From the valley, we went up onto Cheyenne Mountain, Holley's favorite place in the immediate vicinity of Earth

I led an army of one out onto a promontory, as I reached the summit, a raptor flew by, a hundred feet or so below me. It was awesome, and my camera was still in my pocket.

...So imagine a hawk/eagle/falcon flying right to left in this shot

At this altitude, one can see the tilt of the Earth on its axis, or I lost my balance as I snapped this photo.
Doesn't that rock formation look like a creature out of a Terry Gilliam movie?

A blue spruce, or, as we call them in Florida, a xmas tree

Colorado Springs from Cheyenne Mountain

The most ostentatious weather vane in the world.  These people had a metallic menagerie in their front yard.
As Holley said, they have lost the right to complain about gawkers blocking their driveway and road.

Thanks for agreeing to this.

I had a choice?

It'll be fun, just say the first thing that comes into your mind.

That's your job.

Not tonight. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get to sleep.

That's a winning argument! Don't get too heavy, though

We'll start out with an easy question, fair enough?

Yes. Golly, that was a softball!

Smart ass. Here's the question....Do you have a favorite rock lyric, one that resonates with you, one that made you say, "That perfectly sums up my life so far."?

"You got to roll with the punches to get to what's real"*

That doesn't make any sense.

(smiles)

Ok, got it. So tell me, what do you think happens when you die?

Aside from decomposition, I have no idea. The answer is completely unknowable, and not worth the bother.

C'mon! That's a cop-out answer.

No really, I have absolutely no idea what comes next. No one does, and belief isn't proof. The question that should be asked, you don't mind if I ask a question, do you?

Go ahead, I'm not making much headway here

Thanks, the real question is, why be good, if this life is all we get?

So what's the answer?

I'm asking you.

Then I will have to answer with a song lyric as well. "Be good for goodness sake"

Wait! I already gave a favorite lyric!

Yes, but you were talking bullshit, this resonates for real. Heard it my whole life, too.

Elaborate.

Could you state that as a question?

Screw you.

Anatomically impossible. no, really, I am a selfish bastard, and I like doing what makes me feel good. It just so happens that helping others, making them laugh or smile, making their day, and getting nothing in return but the pleasure of their reaction, makes me feel better than anything else.

So why don't you do it more often?

Because I am lazy as well as selfish. I save it for the ones who  are most in need of a lift. I thought I was asking the questions...

I've lost track. You want to ask a question?

Yes.

So ask.

If you were alone on Earth, except for one companion(cop out in the interest of familial harmony alert) after your wife, of course, who would you pick?

Real or imaginary?

Real.

Living or dead?

You know I mean either, answer the question!

Touchy, aren't I? I guess my old yaller dog, Amigo, provided he could live as long as I did.

A dog? Don't you think you'd go crazy, not having a person to talk to?

I guess I would miss conversation after awhile, and regret choosing Amigo. But after hearing the same stories a thousand times, I would regret Not choosing a dog.

Weird.

What did you want to hear, Aristotle? Jesus? Groucho?

Mark Twain.

(mulls)Mmm, yeah, you right. I would miss Amigo, but Twain could get real eloquent and funny about how we miss having a dog. Good answer. You know, you can be a pain in the you-know-what, but most of the time it's kinda nice having you around.

We should get together more often.

----------------------------------------

* from JUMP! by Van Halen

We travelled from Flatland to Colorado Springs, in order to visit our daughter, Holley. The goal was to find out why she moved a half a continent away from us. Was it something we said?

 We got the cheap seats, in sub-coach.The seats in the back of a plane are
 considered the safest. We managed the safe seats on both legs of the flight,
so I really didn't care when parts of the wing began coming apart, and I 
 noticed the the wingtip was curled upwards.

 
Luckily, we were on the ground by then. See the Rocky Mountains in the
background? Snow-covered and beautiful, but I had thought they were more
spread out than that. And taller

 
The first major difference between Florida and Colorado became evident at
the Denver airport. In Florida, restrooms are restrooms, and not tornado
shelters. But in both states, people react weird when you take their picture as
they exit a bathroom.

Saturday, after a good night's rest, we took the train to the
top of Pike's Peak.

 The foliage of the Quaking Aspen changes color before about every other tree. We got lucky, and had seats on the scenic side of the train. Also, our seats faced the incline. As the train backs down the mountain on the descent, the people facing us had to strain in order not to fall out of their seats coming and going. The people across the aisle had a view of rock walls for most of the trip.

Pike's Peak is one unprepossessing mountain. There were tiny patches of snow at the top. I was fatigued from the lack of oxygen at the top, and didn't take any pictures. But in Part II, I will more than make up for the lack of high-altitude shots. Wait and see.

On the way down, we saw some wildlife, such as this
mule deer, named for its big ears.

  
....and this critter, a marmot, soaking up rays and the warmth of a rock.

Some hikers use the train to get to the halfway point on the trail, or to take
the train back after admitting defeat. Pike's Peak is 14,300 ft high.

The architecture in manitou Springs, as well as most of the small towns around Colorado Springs, is worth a whole blog in itself.

We leave tomorrow; by Tuesday I should have the really good pictures up. Stay tuned! 

On my way to work this morning, I stopped at Morrison Springs, just south of Ponce de Leon, Florida.

The morning and the place look so full of promise....

Reluctantly, I left the springs and continued on to work. I was only a couple of hours late

We finished building the tow, and I steered us southbound out of Mobile harbor

My favorite winged subjects were unusually co-operative

Coming in for a landing

                                                                Headed home

"Pundit Puffs.", the Prince of Darkness answered my unasked question. "Popped, using their own hot air to do the deed. They go down smooth, provided you don't give a thought to the ingredients." He said with a cackle.

I concentrated on the game, contemplated the next move on the board. "See the green splotches?" He held up a shriveled, frightened soul of a woman whose calls for killing in MY name did enrage me to no end. "That," he stated with a Creator's pride, "is distilled  stink of filthy lucre." I waved away the offering and watched as, with a shrug, a lip-smacking sucking of  air, and a swallow, my host consigned the harpy to her fate.

Did I say My host? I did, and it sounds ironic on first hearing. But All that I see, all that IS, is mine, even the fiery pits beyond the barren mountains. A good landlord keeps an eye on things. Labor Day is as good a day to congress with tenants as any. Besides, both of our staffs have the day off, there is really no one else spend the holiday with. So here I am, after a seven-level tour of the facilities, a board game on the table between us, rolling the bones with my fallen-yet-still-useful archangel. I have to admit, he runs the place efficiently enough. I want him to put in more sound-proofing, though.

The bones tumbled out of the shaker, the ribs formed a '4' and the tibias a '3'. A seven; he avoided my wrath, landed on Hellbound or Heaven-sent? and drew a card.

"Gitmo Prison to Remain Open, advance 2 steps." That cackle again. "Those who raise no hand against me do my work."

I sighed, took the shaker and and threw them onto the unlevel playing field. Demons are such jokers. A pair of dice stopped rolling; six and a five, '11'.  Oh, I could have had cherubs appear, holding up cards with the correct numbers, but showy isn't my way. I passed The Beginning and collected my indulgences. My opponent looked at me with baleful eyes. He rattled the cup, eliciting groans from deep within, but showed no inclination to roll.

"Care to make a deal?"

"No deals, you know my rules."

"Laws 'a' mighty!" He put on his hurt face. "It's just a game, for Your sake!"

"Let's hear it, damn you!"

He laughed at the mention of our little joke (said at least once at each encounter; when He said it, my response is always 'got you first'), then his face expressed what a mortal would see as genuine concern. "Have you decided what to do about the polluters?"

I knew he meant the rig that sunk, the oily mess that was being dealt with so poorly. "Eons ago." I answered.

"I know I get the board of directors, the test-fakers, the government inspectors, and the ones who ginned up the disaster prep statement." These he counted off on his elongated, elegantly manicured fingers. "Now, how about the spokesman? If it was up to a vote, he'd be mine. And those who are falsely claiming to be hurt by the spill, and getting money for lying, at the same time diminishing the amount that honest people will receive?"

I mulled his offer as I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows. I had allowed him this extravagance, a chalet in Purgatory, as a meeting place for our thank-Me few face-to-faces. The view was fantastic, except for the mass of forlorn souls milling about, uncertain of their ultimate fate. The moans and cries of the tardily repentant were to Satan as the sound of water rushing over rocks is savored by a Japanese gardener. He arranged them by their vocal range, conducting them in a choir of regret, terror, pain, and all the vices which brought them here in the first place.

"The place looks nice, who keeps it up?"

"The rich ones who cannot enter heaven I employ as servants; toilet cleaners, some I turned into cockroaches, to nibble up spilled food." He leaned back in his chair, took a puff from a cigar he had stuck on one horn. He blew the smoke out as a series of perfect rings. His eyes glazed over, then cleared.

"Yes, it's my little corner of Heaven, you might say. So, about my offer?"

"The CEO you don't get, he is clueless, not evil. And the greedy parasites I will decide on a case-by-case basis. Some are suffering through hard times, and just want to feed their families."

"Stealing is stealing, is it not?" When he exhaled this time, smoke rings came first, followed by wispy shapes suggesting agonized faces that were squeezed by the rings before the display dissipated. 

"They all will get to see your horrid visage. The ones on which my mercy shines will join me in time. The Congressman who apologized to BP is yours; nothing he will do in the future will make up for that." I had spoken, discussion ended. With a sulphurous belch, he shook the cup and threw snake-eyes. Real snake's eyes. I smote him before he could move his marker.

"Do no harm to innocent creatures! Only with man may you perform mischief." I thundered. The ground outside shook, the temporary residents outside looked up at the house from where they milled about.

From the floor, holding his bleeding proboscis, I heard him mutter about me not taking a joke very well. He regained his feet, picked up the chair, and delicately tucked it under the table before sweeping the game off onto the floor with a swish of his tail. He actually tried to meet my gaze, but thought better of it, as I knew he would. A mis-shapened goblin I recognized as Stalin limped over and picked up the mess while his overlord composed himself.

"So, I guess we can work out the parameters concerning the mosque in NYC at a later date?"

"We can discuss it anytime. It has been worked out."

He rubbed his smitten nose, tried to push the cartilage back into shape, but I would not allow it to stay. "Just how long do I go around like this, Father?"

"For all time, vengeance is mine."

"Sheesh, you're judgmental." He waved the bag of Pundit Puffs in my face. "My 'people' are all over this, swaying minds and ramping up hate. America will look like the bigoted and violent country that it is." Turning, he kicked Josef down the stairs, then floated down behind the lost soul, fading away before he reached the door. Stupid parlor trick, but it impresses the idolators.

I took as my exit the door leading out onto the balcony. I looked out at those trapped in limbo, and made a light coughing sound. when the crowd looked up, I did show them my face for the barest of nano-seconds. The mass of recently deceased humanity backed away as one, as if recoiling from the light of a thousand suns, many were stampeded, and everyone who found their voice called my name, not his.

Who says I don't have a sense of humor?

Now that the temperatures have moderated somewhat, I agreed to accompany George on a mission to Shell island. The objective this time was transecting the widest point of the barrier island in search of an inland lake. George had it on good authority that the lake supported a population of alligators, and we both hoped to get some pictures of them. 

                                   Our epic journey, color-encoded and annotated. 
                                 The pink line is the path we took back to the boat.

 This shot, across the street from where George keeps his boat, just begged to be taken.

The first quarter of the trek was through marshy ground that supported a healthy population of sawgrass, and some other grass that had spearpoints on the ends. It sure looks pretty in a picture, though... 

And there were numerous clumps of cactus to contend with

 
                We thought we had found the lake, but this was near the pond that is visible on the map,
                                    one ridge of sand dunes from our true objective.

 
George never let me fall too far behind

 
We caught our first glimpse of the big lake.....

It was peaceful and pretty, and we saw no alligators. We did find several spots where one had
flattened the grass, but I was feeling the effects of the sun about then, and forgot about taking pictures.

When we returned to the boat, it was time to go for a swim. I had worn shorts, and the sawgrass had done a number on my shins, but I was barely aware of the pain until I waded out into the water. The salt water reacted with each cut, and the pain became sharply focused and intense.

We started at seven or so, and were back at George's house by noon-thirty. I had plenty of time to take a well-deserved nap when I got home.

I was looking for a place to stretch my legs, and walked up on this unique site in Milton, Florida....

The Santa Rosa County Veterans Memorial

 
People donated in veteran's names to provide a brick for each serviceman or woman from Santa Rosa County

 I had the place to myself, but I didn't feel alone

'Fallen, Not Forgotten', it says on the plaque

 
with a view like this...

...from the rear window of these apartments, just down the block from the memorial,
who wouldn't be happy to live here, and who wouldn't find the beauty of this side of Milton
uplifting to both mind and spirit?

Not everybody, I guess

I have managed to avoid this whole controversy up to now, but today I got caught up in the fracas on a message board:

"NormalKryptonian, that's me. Hey! I needed a name fast, so I could join Super-ManTalk, and inject some common sense into the undulating mass of hate and misdirection that passes for discussion on these boards.

Of course, the original subject was Superman's intention to move to Manhattan, in order "to be closer to the action" as he put it while dropping some meth dealers in front of a police sub-station in Peoria. "I'm tired of the Solitude at the Pole, and I don't need a fortress. I'm mother-eff'ing Superman, after all." He continued as he surprised some illegals attempting to cross the Rio Grande. "Any building should be happy to have me," he said seconds later in Metropolis, before picking up Lois Lane in his arms and flying off to give her another 'exclusive'.  "I'm quiet, I can find lost kids and car keys. I'll join Neighborhood Watch, hell, I'll BE the neighborhood watch."

We all know the story so far; no co-op board will approve him, and who can blame them? The memories of his epic battle with the Rain-Men from Planet X are still fresh in the minds of many New Yorkers; the hole in the UN building, the smoking battlefield that was Central Park, and the toppling of the statue of Liberty. Aside from worries that any attack on his proposed Super-loft might lead to collateral damage when the bullets or disintegrator rays bounce off his chest, where is the Man From Krypton's sensitivity? What if the mother of one the children in that plunging bus he Didn't catch sees him flying back from a mission. It would bring the pain back, you know it would. Isn't New Jersey close enough?

Yeah, right, he saved the day, drove off the Rain-Men, re-dug the Holland tunnel, yada yada. Well, maybe they would have left anyway, except for him starting a bunch of crap! History will note that the worst destruction came after he joined the fray, not before; not an unusual happenstance where the caped crusader is concerned. Besides, and this may sound paranoid, but what if he gets it in his head to run things? He's a bit of a control freak, and I've heard stories about critics vanishi....

Ugly Americans have rights, too. One they exercise all too often is freedom of speech. Now, the ugly I refer is in their hearts and/or minds but, in many cases the inner ugly manifests itself, sneaking onto a face in an unguarded moment, moments such as these....

Newt Gingrich
This bloated serial philanderer really thinks America has forgotten that he vacated his seat in Congress after leading the republicans to a disastrous loss in the '98 elections, and that we have been hoping he would run for President. Actually, I hope he does, he's a guaranteed loser for the republicans.

I almost forgot why Newt is being mentioned at all. Here he is this week expounding on the Cordoba House, the Islamic community Center slated to be built near the site of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center...

[T]he Ground Zero mosque is all about conquest and thus an assertion of Islamist triumphalism which we should not tolerate. … It is simply grotesque to erect a mosque at the site of the most visible and powerful symbol of the horrible consequences of radical Islamist ideology.

The Moors ruled Cordoba for 700 years. During that time, interfaith harmony was the rule. There were Catholic churches and Jewish synagogues in Cordoba. Cordoba even had a jewish mayor for 30 years. When the Moors were driven out, the Jews were forced to convert to Christianity or leave the country. They sought and received refuge in Muslim countries. Does Newt really think the minds behind the Cordoba House picked the name to praise the terrorists as some secret message only Muslims and a zillion right-wing bloggers could decipher? Newt exemplifies one of the requirements for listing here; he leaves ugliness in his wake. Do us a favor, Newt, leave another wife (Hey, how hard can it be?), and run away to New Guinea* with....

Sharron Angle
seen here channeling whatever demon makes her spout barely intelligible fountains of stupidity and meanness, such as her disturbing campaign strategy in her bid against House Speaker Harry Reid. An' I quote....

This week, the candidate refused to take back a claim that there are 'Domestic enemies' in Congress. If she wins, there will be one more. Please, Nevada, don't elect an idiot who advocates killing elected officials, as that would make you even more batshit-crazy than....

Mel Gibson
I used to like this guy, and I still would had I not heard about him saying this to his ex-girlfriend and mother of his child, Oksana Grigorieva....

"...you go out in public and it's a f#@%ing embarrassment to me. You look like a f#@%ing bitch in heat, and if you get raped by a pack of niggers it'll be your fault. All right? Because you provoked it." (A 4th transcript full of evil rants was released this week, but these gems are from an earlier tape.)

Later, in the same phone call, Mel tries a little tenderness...

 Shut the f#%k up! You should just f%#&ing smile, and blow me! 'Cause I deserve it!

I don't think it's gonna happen, Mel. But you might try sweet-talking....

Ken Mehlman
..who this week made official what Bill Maher told us in 2008, namely, that he is gay. Ken led Bush' second re-election campaign, one of the themes of which was that allowing gays to marry would destroy the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman. In answer, I refer you to Newt Gingrich. Ken, as do most self-loathing, republican-voting homosexuals, fought hard for the Republican positions  vis a vis gays, including support of the ridiculous 'don't ask, don't tell' policy for handling gays in the military. Now he wants to see gay marriage become the law of the land, a concept which he vigorously fought against from the safety of the closet. Mehlman is the one I least dislike here, at least his talking about his gayness will make it easier for others to come out. So I would be willing to introduce him to someone....

Governor Jan Brewer (R. Az)
What? Not a man? Are you sure? Yeah I see the dress, the hair, but I thought that lacking any other feminine qualities, Brewer was a cross-dresser. After all, Jan is a man's name in Scandinavian countries, and I know the governor has no problem with vistors from THAT portion of the world. The bill Mr. Brewer pushed that requires the police to become immigration officers is needed because, you know, police have so little else to do. That 11-80 (accident-major injuries) can wait while the officers check out those suspicious guys with the lunch buckets and rope belts. This week, Brewer is upset that the bill is mentioned in a US report on civil rights submitted to the UN. Too late, Jan, the world knows you signed another bill that bans Mexican-American studies in Arizona schools. Youse ugly, inside and out, and so is the bill.

Illegal immigration is down, it peaked in 2007, and seizures at the border are way up. Legal Mexican immigrants have increased in number, so maybe the Governor is just seeing too much brown skin for her taste. What else? The bill was written by a white supremacist, pushed by the company who manages the facility in which the illegal immigrants who are apprehended will be processed... there was something else... Oh yeah, on a per capita basis, Arizonans of Mexican descent commit less crime than do whites.

Now, if Brewer was to craft a bill to keep out....

Gerard Depardieu
 ...Who made news a few years ago, not for his reputed acting abilities, but for this comment:

"I don't understand why rape is seen as bad in this country. In [France], I've raped several women."  

What the hell, the first one's the hardest, right, Gerard? It has been dismissed as a translation problem, but what could he have really meant? Foot-rubbing? Just in case a little rape doesn't make him ugly enough, this week he had this to say about..... 

  Juliette Binoche, (Not ugly, not even a little)
  "I would really like to know why she has been so esteemed for so many years. She has nothing. Absolutely nothing!"

Juliette has been in 50 films, and has won acclaim on both sides of the Atlantic. She won an Oscar, was nominated for another, and has won numerous other awards over the years. Why Depardieu disses her is a mystery. Maybe she didn't succumb to his charms.

* They still have cannibals, right?