It’s been a pretty devastating start to the year, money wise, and the hits just keep on coming. Taxes, water bill, garbage pickup bill, wood pellets, the ongoing funding of my dentist’s kids’ college education and/or new yacht – all sandwiched around a pair of mortgage payments and of course winter utility bills. Oy. Nothing everybody else doesn’t have to deal with, of course. Well, people of my ilk, anyway. Plenty of people have much bigger problems than I do, and then of course there are the few, the proud – the wealthy. You know, those who have little to worry about, except how the government is taking all their money (and by “all” I mean a few million out of their hundreds of millions) and redistributing it to “those people” so they can’t go out and create jobs with it.

Yesterday, I noticed a post by Jill, wondering what the deal was with Obama (Buddha bless her, she still manages to crank out the outrage; I’ve just been too darned tired, myself).

Has Barack Obama just had enough of his thankless job and is essentially saying “Take this job and shove it”, or is he really living in so much of a bubble that he can’t hear anyone but Republicans and Washington pundits?
[…]
Because unless we are all being misled somehow, it’s very likely that in his upcoming State of the Union address, the President Of All Wall Street is going to talk about “tough choices” and “having an adult conversation” and “belt tightening” — all in the context of cutting Social Security.

Personally, I think it’s just that Obama is a politically (not personally; I’m sure he’s a very moral fella) soulless corporatist, and always has been. Sure, he’s a lot more intelligent and a bit more benevolent than the last idiot we had, but he’s a friend to Wall St and a believer in giving working people the invisible finger of the market while willing to compromise on, well, anything and everything (whether he needs to or not). In fact, I would say that, while Dubya was a believer in preventative war (you know, attacking another country just in case it may, some day, attack you – or at least might have some shit you want), Obama is a big believer in preventative compromise.

In a lot of ways, he’s kind of like America’s first black Bill Clinton.

I think we all saw what we wanted to see in Obama. Some saw a radical liberal socialist Nigerian Candidate. Part of a vast Communist conspiracy that began with planting fake birth notices in Hawaiian newspapers 50 years ago (crafty bastards; it’s no wonder they control the world).

Some saw the second coming of the Black Panthers, determined to rid the world of the scourge of the White Devil (especially evil, given that it would make Obama a traitor to his white mother and grandparents and whatnot).

There are those convinced that Obama is an undercover Mooslam bent on destroying the Christianity he professes to espouse, by allowing Mosques to be built wherever them people (and by “them people,” I of course refer to the damn dirty A-rabs) want to build them.

Then of course there are those of us who saw an intelligent, articulate (dare I say, “clean”) person who was perhaps not the progressive candidate we desired, but at least somebody who would undo most (or at least much) of the really bad shit that the last bunch inflicted upon the world.

Sadly, we got, well, we got what we got. And most of us godless librul types probably figure it’s the best we can possibly (realistically) do in this day and age (I mean, it’s pretty easy to say you saw it all coming ahead of time, but what was the alternative? Hillary? Maybe. She would probably have been much tougher – but not a whole lot more progressive – and I think she at least would have tossed a few more scraps to the progressive base than Obama has, but you never really know how these people will turn out until they’re in office. Hell, I still contend that John Edwards would have been the pick of the litter – the hell with his private peccadilloes).

Obama’s not all bad, of course.

At the very least, I don’t squirm with embarrassment when he speaks, and I have yet to see him attempt to exit stage left via a locked door. But, in his own way, Obama may just do more damage than Bush – dismantling the New Deal all by himself, while (thanks to the relentless drumming of the rightwing noise machine) ensuring Right Wing control of the Executive and Legislative branches of government for at least a decade (the Judicial is pretty much locked up at this point; Dubya’s youngish wingnuts will be there for as long as I live, I think, and the best we can hope for from Obama are nominees that reflect his style of governance – tepid, if not timid, “moderates.” Just like his choice for the “beer summit” – I mean, Bud Light? Really? At the very least, he should have gone for a Colt 45 40 in a paper bag; now that woulda gotten Rush Limbaugh going).

But, for me, I find it hard to get all worked up these days. I’m just layin’ low, waitin’ to go here. Just let me keep my job that I don’t really care for anymore so I can be a good little consumer taxpayer, getting all excited by the prospect of two whole days off every week (where I can try and catch up on my chores, if not sleep).

Speaking of which, it’s Friday, ya bastids! :boobs:

I’m not much of a Joan Rivers fan. Although she’s kind of a pioneer in terms of comedic women (not exactly Lucy, but she’s been out there doing her thing for an awfully long time), I’ve always found her to be kind of annoying, her voice grates on me, and looking at her these days kind of creeps me out. Still, if she’s been banned from Fux News for saying Sarah Palin “is just stupid and a threat,” and that “FOX can “go f**k themselves” (not sure what the *s stand for – “o” an “r” maybe?), then I’m on board. I guess. I mean, it’s kind of stating the obvious (as Rivers put it, “Wait till I REALLY shock them with Aretha Franklin is a bit chubby!”). And wears big dumb hats, I might add. Poor Sarah: a victim yet again. I just don’t see how anybody could suggest that an eternal victim could ever be Preznit. I mean, when Vladimir Putin pokes his head over the Bering Strait, we want somebody strong in office to give him the stink eye. Not some whiny bitch. That’s why Joe Lieberman never won.

Speaking of victims, everyone’s favorite action hero and Shriver-in-law, Arnold “Ziffel” Schwarzenegger, is lamenting the fact that being Governor of California cost him $200 million (no word on how much it cost the State of California). Never mind the money, though. The hard part was “Sunday nights when his wife and children broke out in tears because he had to fly back to Sacramento the next morning.”

Thank goodness Maria’s face didn’t shatter.

I can relate, because pretty much every Sunday night, I break down and sob at the thought that I have to go to work on Monday morning, too.

Then again, I’m not too crazy about the fact that I have to there today, either.

I saw a bit of the interview with Gabby Gifford’s husband (pretty hard to avoid, even if you wanted to), and he talked about hearing how his wife had been killed while en-route to Tucson with his kids. Used to be they’d, like, check their facts before they’d report shit like that, but of course those days are long gone. Be first – don’t worry about being correct.

Sarah Palin says she won’t shut up. That’s good. As an insignificant and unpopular (not to mention annoying) fringe element whose 15 minutes have long since passed, she really shouldn’t have to. There’s no reason for “the media” to give her all the attention she gets (and craves), and it would be nice if they’d just ignore her. To quote The Who – “…let’s forget you, better still.”

Speaking of people who should be quickly forgotten, as everybody knows by now, it appears that our Pal Joey from CT has seen the handwriting on the wall, and won’t be running again. Part of me would prefer to see him run and lose, rather than be allowed to ride triumphantly off into the sunset as a legend in his own mind. And no doubt walk right into a lucrative job where he can keep screwing the public – but with a much higher profit margin. But then I suppose there’s a better chance for a Democrat to win with him not mucking things up (for whatever a Democrat in the Senate is worth these days, which, frankly – other than Al Franken, maybe – doesn’t seem to be much).

Today is Jean Stapleton’s 88th birthday. Hopefully she’ll celebrate with a few cans of cling peaches.

I didn’t get to see much of it, but yesterday was a nice, warm day here. It had kind of an annoying start, as I was part of what looked like a twenty mile long procession of cars following a salt truck for about three-quarters of my ride in. Our top speed was about 40, but mostly we were in the 25-30 range. Kind of annoying, but what the hell. It’s not like I have to punch a clock.

Things are supposed to get really cold here as the day goes on – and down below zero for the weekend. Oh boy. I really need to go and get a bunch of lumber to do some projects around here (not that I can really afford it; just paid the taxes, mortgage is coming up in a few days, a couple hundred for the utilities, cable, Internet…).

I guess I’ll just have to watch football and basketball all weekend instead.

Hey, did you know that, in addition to Al Capone’s birthday, yesterday was the 20th anniversary of the Gulf War? Yeah, 20 years ago. Imagine that. I think we were still the “good guys” back then – and of course George Bush was our coalition-building Hero in Chief. I even remember where I was when it started. I think. I seem to recall being at work, and hearing it on the radio. Back in those days, I was a grease monkey – an Apprentice Refrigeration Mechanic, about a year in towards getting my Journeyman’s card – and was in the midst of doing the annual PM on our old Carrier water chillers (used to make chilled water for air conditioning; not that you’d care, but I wish I could remember the model number so I could find a picture; 19C’s or something) with my mentor Al. So that means we were down in the subbasement (about as low as you can get, being a ‘Morlock’ as Granny used to call me, though it would be another five or so years before we’d meet). Though we were the equivalent of three or four stories below ground, there was an exhaust plenum that rose up to the outside (you know, one of those grate thingies that blow your skirt up), I’d hooked a hunk of wire from the radio antenna to one of the pipes that ran out that way, and we were able to tune in a few stations.

It was a good job because, since I was only one of two people who had the slightest clue I could take as long as I wanted to do it, and everybody left me alone. It was a good way to kill a couple of weeks. I believe Al even wrote something about “the bombs falling” in the Chiller Log. Ah, those were the days.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to doing that kind of work. Except it didn’t really pay as well as what I’m doing now, and it was starting to take its toll on my body parts. And having to work up on the roof when it was as cold as it was yesterday kind of sucked. Not to mention doing it when it was 90 degrees out (I think that sucked worse). Come to think of it, maybe I don’t miss it all that much after all.

Not that I’m all that thrilled with having to go back to work today, either. I’m getting awfully tired of this nonsense. Never satisfied, I guess. It doesn’t help that I woke up having somehow done something to my neck between the time I went to bed last night, and the time I got up this morning. Hurts like hell – mostly when I turn my head to the left. Or to the right. Or up. Or down.

Should make for an even better day than usual.

Well, maybe Obama will invade somebody for old time’s sake.

Today’s the day we pay tribute to the Martian King. Oh, wait – that can’t be right. Damn lysdexia. I guess that’s Martin Luther King. It’s not actually MLK’s birthday, of course (that was was Saturday, when he’d have turned 82, and my dad would have turned 91), but they were kind enough to make it a Monday holiday (even in AZ, which – surprise, surprise – resisted for quite a while, with citizens finally voting to make it a holiday in 1992, mostly so they could get the Super Bowl there). I don’t know if you’re off today, but I am. And it’s a good day to be off, since it’s -1° here (and the coldest part of the day doesn’t usually come for another hour or two).

It appears that we won’t be getting any new snow today (for a change), at least. I can’t begin to estimate what we’ve had at my house (the snow piles by my driveway are, oh, I’d guess at least eight feet high – maybe more), but, in Syracuse (whose snowfall pales in comparison to what we get out this way), they’ve officially gone over the 100 inch mark, hitting 103.5″ for the season as of yesterday. That’s about 50″ above average for this time of year, and if it continues at this rate (which of course it won’t), we’ll wind up with something like 235″ for the season, which would be a new record (by more than 3 feet).

I guess now that I’ve lapsed into weather, I might as well go ahead and talk sports. Or should I just say, JETS? If you hate (or are at least really sick and tired of) the New England Patriots, Bill Belichick, and, in particular, Tom Brady, you are neither alone nor disappointed this morning as the Jets went to Foxboro and kicked ass (and managed not to screw it up in the end, which would have been very Jets-like).

Oh, I know, lots of people out there don’t like the Jets because their coach – Rex Ryan – is a big fat loudmouth Irishman. But, hey, that’s exactly what I like best (I admit, I don’t get the whole foot thing, but, hey, to each his own, and besides, it’s not like Rex can see his own feet).

Speaking of sports, 50 years ago today the NBA All-Star game was held here in Syracuse. The East team included Dolph Schayes, Tommy Heinsohn, Wilt Chamberlain, Bob Cousy, and Bill Russelland was coached by Red Auerbach. Suiting up for the West were Elgin Baylor, Bob Pettit, Oscar Robertson, Gene Shue, and Jerry West, among others. They were coached by Paul Seymour. Was there any scoring done back in the NBA’s olden days? Well, in the end, the West beat the East, 153-131.

Looks like Republicans and Democrats will sit with each other for the SOTU address. Well isn’t that nice? They should hand out baseball bats, too. That’d make things more interesting when somebody gets the urge to shout out “YOU LIE!”

It may not be MLK’s birthday today, but guess what? It is Betty White’s (not to mention Michelle Obama, Jim Carey, Andy Kaufman, Muhammad Ali, Al Capone, Kid Rock, James Earl Jones, and Ben Franklin, among others). Number 89 for Ms White (but, hey, who’s counting?). Happy Birthday, Betty.

Good news, bad news today. Big Love starts back up tonight but, sadly, it’s the beginning of the end of the series. Oh, I suppose that’s really just as well, since, when last we saw the Henricksons, things weren’t looking too good, and I don’t know where they can really go from here on out. Plus last season was Amanda Seyfried’s final one, so this year will be a letdown in that respect. A darn shame on all accounts.

Hopefully HBO will be coming up with some series to justify the expense of keeping them. When do True Blood and Curb Your Enthusiasm start back up again, anyway?

In other news, Oklahoma has a new Governor – a woman who has sworn to “support, obey and offend” the U.S. and state constitutions. That sounds about right.

Chris Matthews apparently called birthers, “crackers.” Being a cracker myself, am I supposed to be offended? And, if so, is it the term “cracker” that’s supposed to piss me off? ‘Cuz, frankly, as a white guy of rather mixed descent, it’s pretty hard to offend me. In fact, I don’t think there are any names that can do it. Cracker? Mick? Kraut? Nah, just no kick to those, and white guys who pretend to be offended just seem silly to me. Much like the supposedly offended white people who wrote into NPR the other day because a commenter had expressed relief that the Arizona shooter had been a “gringo.” Oh, how horrible.

Or am I just supposed to be mad because Matthews (whose photo might very well be in the dictionary next to the definition of “cracker”) lumped me in with these idiots? Because, let’s face it, as a white man, I get lumped in with far worse than that on a daily basis. Yes, yes. Me, Glenn Beck, Bill O’Reilly, and Rush Limbaugh. The persecuted and downtrodden majority.

Well, surprisingly enough, after snowing all day yesterday, it’s snowing out there again today. But, at 23, at least it’s about 20 degrees warmer than it was yesterday morning.

Good news. Turns out we use the Tropical Zodiac here in the Western world. Which I guess means we can all go back to being whatever astrological signs we were two days ago. That’s good, I guess. My weekely horoscope says that, family-wise, “lots of ‘back and forth’ discussion may be required to ‘work something out’ especially with/between Aries, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Cancer, Taurus or other Scorpio members.” The only persona applicable there is my sister, and the only thing she’s trying to get me to do is adopt a dog from the Rescue. As for my “partner” forecast, they say I “may be handed a ‘great many things to do’ and very little to do them with [and]… [w]hat is ‘fair’ may not enter into it….” Gee there’s a bold prediction. Oh, and it claims my “state of mind” is “anxious but pumped.” Hmm. I’m just not getting that. Anxious? Eh, not that I’ve noticed. Pumped? That’s gonna take a few more cups of coffee.

It’s the end of the week, and what better way to begin the end than with a trip to the dentist? I can hardly wait. We’ve made it all the way around the top of my mouth so far, and are about two teeth into the return trip back across the bottom, and to “the other side.” I’d just as soon not think about how much this has cost me so far, but I suppose it’s all worth it, as it’s part of my â…” life crisis attempt to turn over a new leaf, get my shit together, and try to be as physically sound as possible for my remaining quarter century or whatever it is I have left. As my mom used to say, make sure you leave a good-looking corpse. Still, this replacing all my ancient fillings (no tooth has gone untouched) is becoming quite tedious. And knowing it’s my own damn fault doesn’t make things any easier – especially since I’m no longer limber enough to kick myself in the ass w/o pulling about 32 muscles.

So, did you hear? They’ve changed the dates for the signs of the Zodiac – and even added a sign. Our lo-cal news is sourcing this as coming from “scientists in Minnesota,” which kind of conjures up thoughts of the Mayo clinic or something, but “they” turns out to be a guy by the name of Parke Kunkle, who is identified as an “astronomer.” So I don’t know if this is an official proclamation or not. Smelling something fishy about his name (and not Pisces, either), I looked this guy up, and it appears that he’s listed as a faculty member in the Physics Department of the Minneapolis Community and Technical College.

Far be it for me to stick my nose up at a 2-yr school (or a guy who got his undergrad degree at Muhlenberg College – I think Muhlenberg offered to let me in when I was in 11th grade, and said I could finish up high school and start working on my degree right away – an offer I stupidly rejected, which led to a 26 year journey in pursuit of higher education – with much emphasis on the higher part, at least for the first decade or two; to think, I could have been teaching at MCTC all these years), but I’m not sure he’s qualified to go around mucking with Astrology (for one thing, he’s liable to set off the goddamn Zodiac Killer – he or she was never caught, you know – who might this very moment now be contemplating another murderous spree, though he might need to use a walker or a wheelchair and a handicap van to go on a rampage these days).

Anyhow, if you believe this so-called Kunkle, I’m not really a Scorpio, but am instead a Libra. And here people have been telling me all my life how much of a Scorpio I am. I don’t know much about Libras, but I suspect that as a sign it pales in comparison to Scorpio. I mean, let’s face it all other signs pale in comparison to Scorpio. Sorry, but we rule. Or are a royal pains in the ass. There’s a fine line there.

Although, now that I look at Libran traits, it appears I fit the bill there pretty well, too. It’s almost like, no matter what sign you pick, there’s enough there to fit nearly anybody – and that’s without even figuring in Uranus rising or anything.

Speaking of which, it’s cold out again today, so I’d advise you to keep Uranus down – which is always good advice, I guess. Especially if you’re a Democrat in Tucson.

OK, now let’s get this day over with already.

Alright, what’ll it be today? Weather? Sports? Lazy media and hypocritical Teabaggers? Sarah Palin?

Let’s see, as for weather – snow. When I went out yesterday morning, we had, oh, I’d guess about 4 or 5 inches of fresh snow. So I figured I’d better plow (in my flannel robe – hanging out below my jacket – and Elmer Fudd hat, I was looking pretty dapper, if I do say so myself – not unlike Randy Quaid in Independence Day, without the cigar, which would really complete the look, I think, so I may have to take them up, at least while on the tractor).

Of course, there was another 5 or 6 inches when I got home, so I had to plow again (I have some pretty impressive piles of snow around here – higher than the front end loader can reach at this point, and it was all gone just a couple weeks ago), and I reckon there are yet another few inches out there waiting for me this morning.

I was able to get things cleared out just before 7:00 last night , which was key because (watch out, here comes sports) that’s when the Syracuse-St. John’s basketball game started from Madison Square Garden, which, despite being 5 hours or so away from here, and despite it being the Red Storm’s (a rather crappy name – they were formerly the Red Men, but that was just a wee bit racist, so they changed it) home court is considered (by the national media) to be a home game for Syracuse. In fact, they’ve recently expanded the area considered to be our “home” turf to include all of New York and New Jersey.

Geographically speaking, you may as well throw in Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Massachusetts, and the District of Columbia. In fact, SU fans take over the Verizon Center so completely whenever we play there, that Georgetown has concocted a scheme to try and keep Syracuse fans from buying tickets. Silly Hoyas. I guess they’ve never heard of StubHub.

Anyhow, in case you were wondering (and you know you were – admit it), after a typically abysmal start, SU stomped all over SJU, plowing through them like a Kubota through a foot of Lake Effect Snow (see, ‘cuz they were wearing their Orange away uniforms and St. John’s had their home white, so…oh, never mind) to go 17-0 on the season, and win its 1,800th game (fifth on the all-time wins list). I mention this mostly because it won’t continue indefinitely, and I figure I ought to get it out there just in case they lose to Cincinnati at home on Saturday – which you can be certain I won’t mention if it happens).

Of course, with Duke dropping their first game of the season last night, should SU pick up win number 1,801, they may move up a notch to #3 in the polls. Though that’s not a given. Duke is one of those teams that could lose a game and move up in the polls (except they’re already #1), and the pollsters love to crap all over Syracuse (because no matter where they play, it’s a home game, and because there are so many SU alums in sportscasting that they either bend over backwards to be “fair” or are despised by their colleagues, who know they’re nowhere near as good).

OK, back to weather. Newsflash: NYC plowed their streets after a snowstorm (assuming you can count what they got yesterday as a “storm”). Mayor Bloomie can hardly contain the pride he feels for himself.

Let’s see, Arizona. President Obama went there yesterday and spoke at a memorial service, telling everybody not to assign blame and use this tragedy as a teaching event or something. You have to wonder why the Republicans and Teabaggers hate him so much – he always seems to be there looking out for them, and making sure their point of view is represented and they get their way in pretty much everything. If he had an ‘R’ next to his name and bleached his skin tone down a notch or two, he’d be the second coming of Ronald Reagan.

Oh, I know, I know. He can’t come out and denounce the rightwing haters and the lazy urinalism that reports false equivalency between a concerted effort in the konservative echo chamber and Republican establishment to demonize Democrats and liberals, and a random commenter or two on some blog somewhere (I’m only hurt that they’ve never taken anything I’ve had to say and used it). He can’t do that, any more than he could fight for single payer health care, Net Neutrality, Wall St. reform, or, well, pretty much anything.

Of course, in all of this, it’s really Sarah Palin you have to feel bad for. She’s such a victim – people are being meanies to her, and there are even death threats against her (so she says – and I for one would never doubt her). Poor Sarah. I wonder if all those dead and wounded people in Tucson ever even gave her a thought when they went out and got themselves shot?

Does it strike you as odd that, had this nutcase been a Marilyn Manson fan or something, the Konservatives would be falling all over each other to denounce this dirty, dirty, rock and roll, and playing his music backwards claiming it says, “kill gabby, kill gabby” (to be honest, I can’t even understand what the f*ck he’s saying when it’s played forward), and preaching personal responsibility and the consequences of one’s actions? I mean, wasn’t it one of their heroes who said, “there ought to be limits to free speech?”

Anyhow, let’s get back to weather. The forecast for the next few days appears to be snow, windy, and cold, really f*cking cold and snow, really cold overnight, and then not quite as cold (and snow), and cold and snow.

On the bright side, both Bill Maher and Big Love start up again. I’ll be interested to see what Bill has to say, and what the world needs now is Love, Big Love.

Okay, everybody snap your fingers and sing along….

More snow today. Not so much here (your basic two or three inches last night, and another five or so today – enough to put Atlanta in a tizzy, yet barely enough for us to notice), but quite a but apparently in store for the big boys, including NYC, which must be starting to feel persecuted. Of course, Mayor Bloomie is on the job, and New York has hired back all the experienced workers they got rid rid of due to budget concerns put GPS systems and real time video cameras in their plows so the City’s upper mucky-mucks can electronically monitor the progress of the plows while staying warm, dry, and very serious-looking for the news cameras while drinking coffee in their offices. My unsolicited advice? Never mind the gizmos – get more plows and people to drive them. Boots on the ground, you know?

Speaking of boots, I think I may have some permanent foot damage, frost bite (or frost nip) or something. Either the circulation to my extremities sucks because I’ve frozen my feet a few times too many, or I’ve just got crappy circulation, causing my feet to freeze on a regular basis. Maybe I’ve become diabetic, or have developed Reynaud’s disease? Or maybe even Scleroderma (that’s one you really don’t want; not a pleasant fate).

So, the prez heads to – as Fred used to say – Aridzona today to express his sadness in that stilted, wooden, way he has. For somebody who got his start being recognized as a great speaker, he doesn’t impress me most of the time these days. Maybe I’m just too familiar with his schtick. I once read somewhere that we ought to have two presidents – one for doing shit, and one as kind of an ombudsman. I nominate Bill Clinton as ombudsman emeritus. No matter how onto him I ever got, he could still kick ass from the podium. Then again, we don’t know who was under there motivating him.

Oh well, do the best you can, Mr. Obama, and keep your head down while you’re out there.

Today is the dreaded Wednesday morning meeting. It’s uncomfortable, unproductive, and un-, um, un-good. While I do not want to go to work today, I even more don’t want to go to this meeting. I need to find another way to make a living.

Until then, though, I guess I better go see if there’s enough snow to plow the driveway or not.