The House barely (217-214; they have funny rules in the House – whoever gets the most votes wins) passed a $154 billion jobs bill yesterday. It was (of course) opposed by every Republican and 38 Democrats, on the supposed premise that it just costs too darn much. For those keeping score, that’s about half of what the war in Afghanistan is projected to cost in fiscal year 2010 alone, or less than 5% of the estimated cost of the combined Iran/Afghanistan wars since 2001 (about $325 billion a year through FY 2010). I don’t recall any “deficit hawks” squawking about that, though (the liberal media probably just didn’t report it).

Howard Dean had a pretty heated discussion with Tweety and Mary Landrieu last night over Dean’s “kill the shitty Senate health care bill” position. This part was really the most telling:

[Landrieu] accused [Dean] of wanting to eliminate insurance companies. “Nonsense,” Dean interrupted.

“You would not let us choose another program,” he argued. “You forced us into the insurance industry. We don’t want to be forced into the insurance industry. You took away our choice. That is wrong!”

“That is not true. You never had that choice to begin with,” responded Landrieu.

Well, there you go. You never had a choice and you never will. So STFU. Reasoning so simple, I’m surprised they didn’t use it to keep abortion illegal.

I’ll tell ya, my Senators aren’t perfect (the big news this morning is that Chuck Schumer was asked by a flight attendant to put his cell phone away, and he “muttered something” – we don’t officially know what, but we’re pretty sure it was “bitch” – under his breath after she walked away. A dick move, to be sure, but not exactly shocking; goodness knows I’ve never muttered “bitch,” “asshole,” or “fuck you” under my breath at anybody who was inconveniencing me by doing their job 🙄 – that bitch Park Ranger in New Jersey that confiscated our beer and gave us a $150 ticket comes to mind), but at least Schumer and Gillibrand aren’t Joe Lieberman and Mary Landrieu (or Ben Nelson, Max Baucus…).

Breaking news: Tiger Woods’ wife is reportedly going to file for divorce. I’m surprised. I really thought those two kids were gonna make it.

It looks like the video feeds from our brave, unmanned Predator drones flying over Iraq, Pakistan, and Afghanistan are being hijacked by “insurgents” using cheap software you can get off the Internet (though I wouldn’t recommend you download it at the moment, unless you want a one-way trip to Guantanamo Illinois). Now the Pentagon says, “oh, well, I guess we better encrypt that shit,” which you woulda thunk was kind of obvious, no? If it was me, I’d have some unencrypted feeds out there running loops of the drones flying over, like, the other side of the country from where the real ones are at. Kinda fool ’em, you know?

“Mahmoud, is that a drone up there in the sky?”

“No, Akbar, it can’t be. I have the live feed here, and they are flying over Krapistan now. Or maybe New Jersey – hard to tell.”

“Ah, praise Allah. Must be a weather balloon. Set up the rocket launchers.”

Speaking of drones, Granny is venturing out into this 10 degree (and dropping) morning, heading over to the local Air Base to join the Syracuse Peace Council in protesting the fact that the Air Force (the “Boys from Syracuse,” which had previously flown A-10 “Warthogs” in Gulf War One, and most recently F-16s) is now flying our version of unmanned drones – the bigger, better, more heavily armed “Reaper” – in combat air support missions over Afghanistan. I suggested a sign that says, “More Cowbell!” but I guess that’d just confuse everybody.

One of my hobbies is filling out online surveys. I fill ’em out and get points, and when I accumulate about a billion points, I get to pick out a crappy little “prize” (the prizes used to be a lot better than they are now – that’s how I got my little atomic-clock-synced travel alarm clock that I never use ‘cuz I never travel, and my wireless indoor/outdoor weather thingie with an atomic clock in it that sits on a shelf in my kitchen next to the travel clock, because there are only four other clocks – or things with clocks built into them – in my kitchen). I’m not in it for the prizes, though; it’s a really good way to kill time waiting for the day to be over.

Anyhow, I took one the other day that was all about a print ad for some “clinical strength” deodorant, and whether I’ve ever used/needed “clinical strength” or “prescription” deodorant. And I thought to myself, “there’s such a thing as prescription deodorant?”

I mean, no offense to anybody with chronic perspiration control problems (CPCP), but how bad do you have to sweat before you go get a prescription for it (and who wants to be the next person to sit in that guy’s chair in the waiting room)? And what, exactly, do you put it on (the prescription, not the chair)?

I mean, I’ve been known to sweat (I am a real man, after all), and when I sweat, under my arms is the least of it. It gushes from my head, back, and (at the risk of revealing too much information) my naughty bits. When I was forced to spend that summer in DC, I felt like I was walking around with a 50 pound sponge shoved down my pants (and not in a good way).

But, whatever. An ad with a stick of deodorant in front of a sand dune certainly isn’t gonna make me any more likely to buy it. If you sweat that bad, about all you can do is let ‘er rip and try to mask the smell (hint: drink lots of water).

Oh, crap, it’s getting late here – gotta go. Have a good one.