Friday, August 04, 2006

A tribute to John Ashcroft from the Interwebs

In the news today, there was a story about a bunch of Conservatives who had been "Outraged" and "Disgusted" by a picture on the front of a parenting magazine of an obviously happy baby apparently suckling at it's mother's breast.

Now - I don't know if this is true or not. But if so, I am 200% in agreement with the sentiments expressed herein:

On January 28, 2002, Attorney General John Ashcroft, announced that he spent $8000 of taxpayer's money for drapes to cover up the exposed breast of The Spirit of Justice, an 18ft aluminum statue of a woman that stands in the Hall of Justice.

John, John, John,
you've got your priorities all wrong.
While men fly airplanes into skyscrapers,
dive bomb the pentagon,
while they stick explosives into their shoes,
and then book a seat right next to us,
while they hide knives in their luggage,
steal kids on school buses,
take little girls from their beds at night
drive trucks into our state capital buildings,
while our president calls dangerous men all over the world
evildoers and devils,
while we live in the threat of biological warfare
nuclear destruction,
you are out buying yardage
to save Americans
from the appalling
alarming, abominable
aluminum alloy of evil,
that terrible ten foot tin tittie.
You might not be able to find Bin Laden
But you sure as hell found the hooter in the hall of justice.

It's not that we aren't grateful
But while we were begging the women of Afghanistan
to not cover up their faces,
you are begging your staff members to
just cover up that nipple,
to save the American people
from that monstrous metal mammary.
How can we ever thank you?

So, in your office every morning,
in your secret prayer meeting,
while an American woman is sexually assaulted every 6 seconds,
while anthrax floats around the post office,
and settles in the chest of senior citizens,
you've got another chest on your mind.
While American sons arrive home in body bags
and heat seeking missiles,
fly around a foreign country,
looking for any warm body,
you think of another body.
And you pray for the biggest bra in the world John,
because you see that breast on the spirit of justice
in the spirit of your
own inhibited sexuality.
And when we women see
our grandmothers, our mothers, our daughters, our granddaughters,
our sisters, ourselves,
when we women see that
statue the spirit of justice
we see the spirit of strength
the spirit of survival.
While every day
we view innocent bodies dragged out of rubble
and women and children laid out
like thin limp dolls
and baptized into death as collateral damage,
and the hollow eyed Afghani mother's milk has dried
up underneath her burka,
in famine, in shame,
and her children are dead at her breast.

While you look at that breast John,
that jug on the spirit of justice,
and deal with your thoughts of lust,
and sex, and nakedness,
we see it as a testimony motherhood,
And you see it as a tit.

It's not the money it cost.
It's the message you send.
We've got the right to live in freedom.
We got the right to cheat Americans out
of millions of dollars and then
just not want to tell congress about it.
We've got the right
to drop bombs night and day
on a small country that has no army,
no navy, no military at all,
because we've got the right to bear arms
but we just better not even think
about not the right to bare breasts.
So now John, you can be photographed
while you stand there and talk about
guns,and bombs, and poisons,
without the breast appearing over your right shoulder,
without that bodacious bosom bothering you,
and we just wanted to tell you,
in the spirit of justice,
in the spirit of truth,
You have shown us which is the bigger boob!

Monday, July 31, 2006

Heat and Tests

Today is supposed to be horrid again. And tonite - and tomorrow. Tomorrow nite is supposed to be a break.

I know heat. I've lived with it for most of my life. We never had AC as a child until I was well into my 20's - and then only when things became DIRE. I know I can live with just fans, and have done. Honestly, there've only been a few nights of laying drenched in my own sweat and unable to find a cool or dry spot on the bed...

But walking into the sweet, sweet coolness of the office this morning was like entering Heaven. I will curse the cold in a few months - but right now the chill feels lovely.

Saturday I went for the stupid Glucose Tolerance test. For the uninitiated, this is where you are expected to eat nothing for 12 hours or so, then bitten by a vampire who tests your blood and bottles up the rest, then forced to drink a ghastly orangey-flavored syrup (10 ounces!!!) - and then sit bored for 2 hours until the vampire bites you again, taking 2 vials of the precious red stuff.

Whoever thinks up these "tests" has a Machiavellian sense of humor, methinks.

"Ok, Phil - what can we do to make their lives UTTERLY miserable for a few hours?"

Supposed to make a Dr.'s appointment. Meh.