Today on Press the Meat, it’s Tim Geithner. Maybe he’ll tell us who he’s chosen to head the Consumer Protection Bureau. Then it’s a roundtable with NY Times weenie David Brooks, the WaPost’s E.J. Dionne, former White House Communications Director Anita Dunn, National Urban League President Marc Morial and teabag founder Rick Santelli.

Over at Faze the Nation, it’s Abigail Thernstrom, the Vice Chair, U.S. Commission on Civil Rights, Michael Eric Dyson (who is OK, other than he teaches at Georgetown) Cornel West, Wall Street Journal douchebag John Fund, and former Bush shill Michael Gerson. You’d think Bob Schieffer would also have a word or two to say about Daniel Schorr, too.

On Fux News Sunday, Weaselface Wallace has disgraced former House Speaker Newt Gingrich and Howard Dean, plus Jesse Jackson on how the White House handled the Shirley Sherrod ouster (not that Fux had anything to do with it, of course). And of course the usual fuxheads.

At the Goebbels network, it’s Timmy Geithner and NJ Gov Chris Christie, plus a mere ⅔ of the Axis of Drivel, Sam Donaldson and Cokie Roberts, along with Donna Brazile and Fuxhead Stephen Hayes of the Weakly Substandard. Gee, George :jerk: Will actually had somewhere else to go?

On CNN, Fareed Zakaria is all about Afghanistan this week with an exclusive interview with Richard Holbrooke. Then a panel of ‘experts’ – Richard Haass from the Council on Foreign Relations, George Packer of the New Yorker and Bret Stephens of the Wall Street Journal – argue over America’s future in the region. Plus, more from Fareed’s recent trip to London with Harvard historian Niall Ferguson and Lord Robert Skidelsky. You think the Gulf oil fiasco is a big deal (or even an unusual event)? Imagine having an Exxon Valdez-sized oil spill in your backyard every year for the last 50 years. That’s how it is in Nigeria, and Fareed gives us a look at the damage in the Niger River Delta.

I think a better use of your time this Sunday would probably be listening to NPR’s one-hour retrospective on the life and career of Daniel Schorr. It’s on a 2:00 on my local NPR station. As they say, check local listings for broadcast times in your area.

Well, got the old bursitis pretty bad in my right shoulder this weekend, and typing is pretty painful, so I reckon I’d better go now. Have a good Sunday.

So, Stanley McChrystal officially retired yesterday, I guess. How long before he’s an “anal-yst” for Fux News, telling the teabag faithful how Obama is doing everything all wrong?

Poor Charlie Rangel. He appears to be in a bit of trouble, and I don’t think he understands why. I mean, that’s just the way things work, so why are they picking on him? I’ve always liked Charlie. He’s a very snappy dresser – kind of a cross between a funeral director and an old-school vampire.

Barney Frank says Obama ought to appoint Elizabeth Warren as head of the new Consumer Financial Protection Bureau – even if it means using a recess appointment to get around the obstructionist Senate Republicans. I agree, and I hope Obama gets Tim Geithner’s approval to do it.

Oh well, time to get out there and try to get this weekend over with. I can’t wait ’til Monday morning rolls around again.

Barack Obama keeps writing to me. At first I kinda liked it, you know? But then I got tired of it, and now it’s just kind of annoying. I didn’t even bother to read this one. The subject was “Change,” so I’m assuming he’s trying to tell me he’s changed and from now on things’ll be different. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I might start to get my hopes up, but in the end he’ll just hit me up for money, and then I’ll realize yet again what a fool I am for thinking he could change. It’s not that I hate you or anything, Barry. Honest. I’m just not that into you any more. I mean, when we first met – even though I knew you weren’t the “perfect” man (hey, who is, right?), I thought you were really cool, and I hoped I could change you. But that never works, does it? And now we’ve just kind of drifted apart. We just don’t seem to have anything in common anymore.

I wanted us to get out of Afghanistan, and you want to keep us there. I wanted Single Payer health care, and you took that off the table from the start. I wanted strict financial regulation, you hired Wall Street insiders to write it. I wanted you to use your electoral mandate to make real changes and undo all the damage Republicans have done since St Reagan, and you wanted to give them a reach around across the aisle.

Oh, I know. I should have known better – all the signs were there from the start – so it isn’t you, Barack. It’s me. Just, you know, quit it with the writing and the begging. You’re embarrassing yourself.

Big weekend here in CNY as the Oswego Harborfest begins today. This is a huge event (that I’ve never actually gone to because Oswego is too small a town for so many people to gather all at once) with a Midway, tall ships, music (including Kansas – or as Jim Earl would say, “that crappy fusion band from the 70’s” – the Fabulous Thunderbirds, and the Little River Band; I guess there are geezers like me in charge of booking the talent), and a carnival atmosphere with much drinking of beer, all culminating with the world-famous (so I’m told) Grucci Brothers fireworks display (set off from a barge out in the harbor) on Sunday night. Then the 40 or so miles between Oswego and Syracuse turns into a parking lot for a few hours.

Hey, what can I say? We love us some beer and fireworks up here in the provinces.

First, a NJ woman said a man with a gun stole her car and drove it into a tree. Next, she said she made up the carjacking story to cover up the fact that she picked up a stranger and let him drive her car, which he promptly drove into a tree while they were engaged in a “sex act.” Now, however, it appears that she made up the car sex story to cover up the fact that she and her man stole a laptop from another car, and were fleeing the police when they crashed into the tree. They then set the car on fire, because, um…well, just because. No idea what they’re trying to cover up with the whole stolen laptop story.

Well, shit. I guess I gotta go to work now.

If I live long enough, I suppose I’ll be pleasantly surprised to wake up on any given morning. At this point, though, it kinda just sucks. At least on weekdays. But it’s a special, exciting day today, as my new lawnmower is set to arrive. Yes, that’s pretty much what it’s come down to. Our old lawnmower, which is a Wal-Mart special (bough back before I became enlightened) that has to be about 12 years old, and cost, I think, $99. So I guess we’ve gotten out money’s worth. The new one is electric, and while I’m happy about the lack of noise, fumes, gas, and oils (and the fact that it’s really, really light), I’m a bit dubious as to the whole extension cord thing. Especially since my stepson has been kind enough to cut the grass for us most of the time. He’s a good kid, but, well, you know how kids are. He isn’t real good at taking direction (“yeah, yeah. I know”) and I don’t always get the sense that he’s paying attention, so I figure there’s an “oops” in our future (I just hope that when it happens, the grass isn’t wet). Oh well. We shall see.

But there’s even more excitement today, as my new finish nailer is coming, too. I have a brad nailer, which is pretty handy, and a framing nailer (which has a pretty good kick; you don’t wanna forget to rotate the exhaust away from your face), but I needed something in between.

Not so exciting is the news that Playboy is launching a new non-nude website called SmokingJacket.com. Woo-hoo. Next, maybe somebody will open an alcohol-free bar, or maybe a Hooters where the servers dress in haz-mat suits.

Playboy on Tuesday launched a new, non-nude website that it described as being safe-for-work and a “satirical antidote to the drudgery of the work day.”
[…]
“The smoking jacket isn’t just something I like to wear around the mansion,” Playboy’s iconic founder Hugh Hefner, 84, says in a video posted on the site. “It’s Playboy’s safe for work website. Next to the mansion, it’s the best hangout on the planet.”
[…]
On Tuesday, the new site had posts such as “How to Get Laid at Work,” and “How to Hang Out with Porn Chicks”.

Photos include a spread of Playmate Kimberly Phillips in lingerie and a smoking jacket. From the archives, there’s the 1983 Playmate Playoffs featuring bikini-clad women with classic Farrah Fawcett-styled hair competing in water-soaked events.

First off, I thought the whole “drudgery” of the work day was, like, “working,” not surfing the Internet. Second, I don’t know about where you work, but where I work, I’m pretty sure that pictures of wet, scantily-clad women and tips about hanging out with porn “chicks” and getting laid at work (I guess every day is hump day at the Smoking Jacket) are most decidedly unacceptable and not safe for work. Unless maybe you work with a bunch of adolescent boys testing video games or something.

We can all rest easy today knowing that Lindsay Lohan is behind bars (by that, I mean in jail – not, you know, out behind the bar, which is where she was Monday night. Word has it that Jack Nicholson and Otis Young took her out for one last fling).

The actress, wearing a top that exposed part of her back, was surrounded by deputies and was quickly walked to a nearby side door labeled “secure area.”

Does everything necessitate a fashion report these days? What’s next?

“Elana Kagan, wearing big stupid earrings and a simple strand of faux pearls beneath a green sport coat met with Senator Lindsey “Lohan” Graham this morning, shortly before her nomination to the Supreme Court was approved by the Senate Judiciary Committee. Graham, wearing a rhinestone thong and gold nipple ring, was the only Republican on the Committee to cross party lines and vote in favor of Kagan’s nomination.”

Well, it’s about that time, so I guess I better go put on a clean thong and head out to work and learn how to get laid and hang out with porn chicks.

It was 41 years ago today that Neil and Buzz separated the Eagle Lunar Module from the Columbia Command Module, waved goodbye to Michael Conrad, and proceeded to land in the Sea of Tranquility. A few hours later (and way ahead of schedule, as they were supposed to sleep for 5 hours after they landed, but, sleep? Seriously? They didn’t think so), at 10:56 PM EDT (which was pretty late for an eight year old kid – even if it was summer vacation), Neil took that first small step onto the lunar surface. Ah, those were the days. Men were men, women were women, music was music, the US was entrenched in a pointless, un-winnable, and undeclared war on foreign soil (ok, so some things never change), and there was a Republican president who makes Barack Obama look like a John Bircher by comparison.

Of course, there was a lot of stuff we didn’t know back then – like the computer would have landed them in a field of boulders, so Neil had to take over and fly the thing himself – nearly running out of fuel in the process. And Buzz busted the handle off the circuit breaker that they needed to arm the main engine to lift off (they wound up using a pen to flip the switch).

Meanwhile, back here on Earth 41 years later, 10:56 PM is even later for me now than it was back then, and the only giant leap I’ll be making today is the one that launches me into motion to get ready to go to a job that seems to do nothing more than give me a nine or ten hour headache five days a week. Not that I’m complaining (well, obviously I am complaining, but you know what I mean), of course. The only thing worse than working is looking for work. So, hi-ho, hi-ho.

I know everybody is shocked to hear that all may not be well (so to speak) with BP’s oil hole in the Gulf. Apparently, there’s a bit of seepage (and I think we all know just how uncomfortable that can be) and “undetermined anomalies” in the wellhead area. Damn, I dunno what’s worse: seepage, or anomalies on your wellhead. Though seepage in your wellhead area would indicate a trip to the clinic. Especially if it’s an oily discharge.

Elsewhere, it appears that Obama has told his Vice President to ixnay on the whole ooptra awdowndray from Ghafanistanay. Joe Biden told the Goebbels network yesterday that next summer’s troop reduction might just be a token few thousand. I, for one, am proud to see Obama show the steely resolve once exhibited by another strong Democratic leader – LBJ. Though LBJ was a lot better at ramming his legislation through Congress.

The Liberty Belle is coming to town next weekend. Not a bell, but the restored WWII-vintage B-17 bomber known as the “Flying Fortress.” It’s probably most notable for the bubble on the bottom where the “belly gunner” sat (and was pretty much screwed if the landing gear didn’t work). I’m familiar with them because when my dad was going through radio operator training during the war, he’d hoped to get the job of radio operator (whose other job was to man a .50 caliber machine gun) on one of these. Instead, he wound up slogging through China/India/Burma and getting bit by a monkey before contracting malaria. He didn’t get shot, at least.

Speaking of WWII, those Krazy Krauts shut down a 37-mile stretch of their high-speed highway for a party yesterday where, by all accounts, they had fun, fun, fun on the Autobahn. Yeah, I know, the words are actually “Wir fahr’n fahr’n fahr’n auf der Autobahn,” which is kinda the opposite idea of sitting down at a 37-mile table, but, either way, it’s Ausgezeichnet!

Not so excellent, however, is the fact that it’s Monday, and I gotta go to work.

Oh well, as they say in Deutschland, “Gute Fahrt!”

Granny made me stay up way past my bedtime last night, so, while I’ve been up for quite a while now, I’ve been too brain dead and apathetic to see who’s on the teevee today, let alone think of anything to write. Even the dogs are tired.

Big weekend here. The Syracuse Nationals are in town (the car show – not to be confused with the Iroquois Nationals, who are not in town, but are on a bus headed back to the region because it appears unlikely that the Brits will let them in, and they just can’t afford to stay in NYC any longer). It’s also Empire Brewfest weekend, which means lots of people will be drinking lots of beer (a shockingly unique idea; I guess some people need an excuse to drink lots of beer). I’d go, but tickets are pretty pricey ($49 or $99 for the “Beer Connoisseur” ticket, which gets you in an hour early and lets you sample beer that the $49 riff-raff doesn’t get. $50 will get me at least 5 sixpacks of Hop Devil, which lasts me at least four nights – maybe three, if I get on a roll – and as much as a week if I’m slacking off).

It’s gonna be hot today, too, but I won’t complain about it. Instead, I’ll complain about my shoulder, which for some reason starting killing me in the middle of the night, and is making it very difficult to type. I’m getting kinda tired of this getting old shit. Seems like at least part of me hurts at all times (can’t wait ’til they all decide to hurt simultaneously). I wish I had more faith in the whole life after death or reincarnation or whatever shit. I’m starting to think it’s time to reboot. Oh well, time to go find something that needs to get done (which shouldn’t be too hard).

Finally, we come to the end of a very long week. Too bad there’s still Friday to have to get through. And it’s still too damn hot (and, yes, as I previously acknowledged, it gets hotter elsewhere, but if you choose to live in those places, that’s your problem; as for me, I now have one more reason to move to Canada). The new oil cap may or may not be working, which I suppose is a good thing. It all depends on if they see the pressures they’re expecting to see. If the pressure drops, then oil is most likely leaking out into the sea bed, and I guess they’ll have to open up the cap again. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. I think three months of this is enough. It’s just too bad that this will all be soon forgotten until it happens again in an area where it’ll get noticed by the media.

The Droid X came out yesterday, and sold out pretty quickly. The biggest complaint from the professional reviews I’ve seen so far is that it’s “too big” at 5 x 2.6 x .4 inches. I guess if you want a 4.3 inch screen, you gotta expect it to be a little bigger than a phone that’s, well, smaller, but at less than the width of an index card, I think it’d fit quite nicely in my shirt pocket. But, alas, I really have no need for it. I guess I need a job where I spend a lot of time in airports or something.

The Iroquois National team is still stuck in NYC. Something tells me the Brits won’t back down. They love their bureaucracy even more than we do (hell, probably almost as much as the krauts do).

Oh well, I guess it’s about that time.