Temporal Anomaly

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Memo to Thursday: YOU ARE WEDNESDAY.

The nice thing about being the sole owner and proprietor of your website is this. You make the rules. When you make the rules, then you're the only person you answer to when you break the rules. Especially when the rules are little more than arbitrary traditions that serve no practical purpose. My point is, just because it's not Wednesday doesn't mean there aren't IDIOTS SAYing THE DAMNDEST THINGS.

"She is committed to her global warming fanaticism to the point where she has said that she's just trying to save the planet. We all know that someone did that over 2,000 years ago, they saved the planet -- we didn't need Nancy Pelosi to do that." - Minnesota's own Michelle Bachmann.

This, right here, is why I have so much trouble with the "live and let live" thing when it comes to religion. If Michelle Bachmann wants to believe that 2,000 years ago, Jesus saved the planet, that's one thing. Yes, it's ridiculously bad theology, but given the other claims made about Jesus, I can let slide that "saving the souls of a few hundred million Christians" is the same as "saving the planet".

But to believe that is one crazy thing thought by one crazy person. What's happening here is on a whole other level. Someone is setting public policy based on the belief that Jesus saved the planet 2,000 years ago, and on top of it, that it's the only time the planet will ever need saving, and the only type of saving the planet will ever need. That is certifiably batshit. That's driving down the road with your engine on fire, insisting everything is fine because you got the first free tune-up at the dealership ten years ago. And even if Bachmann's just saying it to score cheap political points, that means that there's an entire constituency out there to whom this argument sounds sane. And we knew that, I guess, but that doesn't mean I can't be irked every time it's reaffirmed.

"Why would I want to do that? I’m gonna have a good life out here in the private sector. Why would I go back to telling everybody in the world how much money I make and…barely surviving to have some obscure cabinet post and have some 20-year-old from the White House telling me what I’m gonna do? - Mike Huckabee, in an interview with an Arizona newspaper.

And speaking of crazy Christian hypocrisy, let's all take a long, hard look at Mike Huckabee, one-time presidential candidate, covenant marriage booster, weight-loss guru and soon-to-be TV show host. One of the enduring myths about Huckabee is that he's a true believer. That he may be a right-wing, prosletyzing douchebag, but at least he's not cynically exploiting his faith for political gain. Well, guess what. The Huckster feels the same way about public service and money as every other goddamned Republican.

The salary he'd "barely survive on"? Well, he was being asked how he felt about taking a CABINET POST in the unlikely event of a John McCain administration. You know what the lowliest of the lowly cabinet positions pays? To borrow from an old punchline, $150,000, same as in town. A hundred and fifty grand is subsistence level for Huckabee. I guess he was willing to settle for the lower-middle class Presidential salary, $400K, because of all the heathen-bombing perks and the cafeteria priveleges. Sounds like someone needs his fake saviour to come by and kick over a few tables.

"NOBODY WANTS TO MARRY A POTTYMOUTH... Outrage follows, much of it extremely unladylike." - Tim Blair, blogger for the Daily Telegraph, commenting on the anger from female bloggers after a story about a female blogger convention landed in the New York Times "Fashion and Style" section.

As a world-renouned pottymouth myself, I must call bullpucky on the farkakt ravings of this stupid melonfarmer. I would marry a pottymouth in a chicken-befriending minute, and there are millions of other global citizens who would do the same. I don't know what gosh-darned century Tim Davis thinks he's from, but "ladylike" behavior isn't some heckish Victorian constraint anymore. So Tim Davis, please offer a nice big piece of sugar to the horse you rode in on.