English is now our national lanuage. Thank you Congress. This is ground breaking legislation. No, they didn’t pass a bill making English the official language, just the national language. This means no federal communications can be in a language other than English. Well, except for those federal communications in languages other than English that are already guaranteed under law. That’s right, it changed no laws. This carries all the legislative weight of a resolution. Like those ones that recognize championship sports teams or the 105-year-old great grandmother that grew a prize winning tomato. In other news from the Hill, Congress is currently considering a bill that would make blue the official color of the sky.

Tomorrow is election day in New Orleans. My absentee ballot was mailed off weeks ago (I can only hope the USPS got it there). This is the first election antediluvian, and probably the most important since at least reconstruction (maybe ever). It’s obvious at this point that those along the Gulf cannot count on the federal government. Like any municipal election, the basics such as crime, education and infrastructure are at the forefront. But these are magnified in Orleans Parish. The issues of immediate and long term concern are unprecidrented. So, stick with what you got, or throw the bums out, but be involved in the decission. And screw that huggy feel good crap about everyone rallying around whoever wins. The Mayor and all the Council members should have their feet held to the fire. Call them on their bullshit and accept nothing but the best. Fight for your vision of New Orleans.

Jessica Simpson may be playing the part of Lucy Ewing in the Dallas movie. She already has The Dukes Of Hazzard movie under her belt, at this point I’m pulling for her to land a role in the Hulk sequal. Then she will have pulled off an amazing hat trick — starring in a movie from every show on CBS’s early 80’s Friday night line-up. My own personal casting choice for JR Ewing is 50 Cent seeing as how he already knows how to get shot. But, if a rapper must be cast, I, of course, insist on Sir Mix-A-Lot. Afterall, he is the JR Ewing of Seattle.

Sherman Oaks, CA — The trip is over. The updates stopped because basically all I did on the last portions was hang out with friends. And while this was awesome, not exactly blog worthy (in case anyone was wondering).
But a quick recap. Swung through Virginia. Got to see Rob and Donna, and Norm and Liz. Alcohol was consumed, sports were watched, video games were played.
Hit the SAV. Stayed at the new and improved case de Heidel. Lee and Ginger were doing great. G looked like a beautiful mom to be. Man, with those two as parents, that is going to be the most affection showered kid in the world. Lucky little baby.
Headed to Northeast Georgia. Saw the family. Hung out with my Athens folks. Saw the usual downtown gang. Got to hang out with Jayme for the first time in a long time. Good stories as always. And for the first time I got to hear all about having, and losing, your own TV show.
I swung through New Orleans. It was comforting to see those familiar places and faces. But that city, and that whole region, is still so very fucked up.
I shot across Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California to land here in Sherman Oaks. It’s my new home.
STATES VISITED: 33
MILES DRIVEN: 13,139

Suffolk, VA — Back on the East Coast and back in the South. It feels good to be in Flair Country. I still haven’t quite outrun the cold weather, but it appears as if snow is a thing of the past, and not a moment to soon.
I must give Pittsburgh its due. That is one happening little town with a vibrant arts community right smack dab in the middle of blue collar America. I enjoyed myself at the Andy Warhol Museum. I’ve always been a big Warhol fan and have wanted to see the place for years. Almost every aspect of his career and life was covred (painting, silk screening, film, music, writing, publishing, family, friends, shootings). My only complaint would be the repitition. Look, I know the guy liked Marilyn Monroe, but do we need to see the same piece over and over again. C’mon Warhol museum, a little variety wouldn’t hurt you.
Upon leaving Pittsburgh I had a traveling plan. I would drive across New York, find a nice little place near Cooperstown, check out the Hall in the morning and then hit New England (all the while taking more of the Drunken Mardi Gras conversations that had started about 10:00 AM EST). However, I lost yet another battle to Mother Nature (that bitch has got my number). Somewhere in central New York (I think between Rochester and Syracuse) snow started falling. I thought this was no big deal, seeing as how I was only a few exits away from where I had planned to spend the night. Here arised one of the first of several problems I would encounter on this particular evening. Apparently, the state of New York hasn’t gotten down with that whole name the exits after the mileage thing. So, even though I was only two or three exits away, I had no idea how far that would actually be (mileage wise). The snow not only continued to fall, but greatly intinsified. My visibility did not extend much past my windshield wipers. For much of this portion of the journey, I had no idea what, if any, lane I was in, or if I was even on the road. I decided it would be in my best interest to take the next avliable lodging opportuity and deal with this in the AM. But, because of the visibility issues, I completely missed not one, but two exits. When I saw the next one, I sslloooowwllyy veared down the ramp and through the toll booth. The only hotel avliable was what could generously be called a throw back. This placed used actual keys. With a “fuck it, this will do” attitude, I drove to the front of my room. I stepped out of my no longer slip sliding car and found myslef standing in snow that reached my mid calf. Whatever, all I wanted was four walls, a ceiling, a floor and a toilet. And that’s about all I got. Once in the room, I cranked the heat up to a Florida retirement community level, bundled up, and settled in for a long winter’s nap. After a reasonable amount of time, I noticed the room had not gotten any warmer. Sure enough, the heating system was not working. Once again the “fuck it, this will do” attitude came into play.
The next morning, a quick check of the weather let me know that the New England leg of this journey wasn’t happening. No biggie, just means I spend an extra day in New York. I hit Cooperstown to bask in the greatness. The Hall of Fame building is not the grand catherdral I expected. Just a modest looking brick structure in the middle of a small town. It was all I hoped it could be and nothing close to my dreams. There is just no way to squeeze the entire history of baseball and all those that have played it into one place. However, I did find that it was a good thing Mordeci Brown was not deaf. I marveled, I gawked, I smiled, I frowned. And I walked out mentally counting down the seconds to opening day.
I was off to the city and could already feel myself getting energized. I hadn’t been to New York in over five years, and I forgot how fucking much I fucking love that fucking place. Once settled into my hotel, I set out to see some stuff I hadn’t seen before. I walked around Time Square and Broadway (both were right out my door) because I had never seen them all lit up at night. With that mission accomplished, I found a nice pub to spend the next few hours in. The next morning brought snow, and a desire to stay under a blanket for a while longer. Then I headed downtown to go to Battery Park. Not an ideal day for such an envedour. I stopped by Ground Zero (this was my first time in NYC post 9/11). I have heard all of the comparisons between this area and New Orleans post-Katrina. With all due respect, there is no comparison. The reasons these two events happened are completely different, the feelings afterwords were completely different and the size and scope of the affected area is completely different. The only similarities I saw between the two is that they brought death and destruction to a major American city.
That night I was able to smile plenty as I got to hang out with Samantha in Union Square. She looked even better than I felt. We caught up on our loves, heartbreaks, conquests and careers. The next night my personal joy continued as I spent some quality time with Mandy. I got a super cool tour of her place of employment. We saw a quality show with some amazing talent. This leg of the journey reminded me that even though I have seen some amazing sights on this trip, seeing those I care about and don’t get to see often enough has been the true highlight.

Pittsburgh, PA — There’s snow in these here hills. More than enough to close public schools in Georgia for upwards up two months. It’s actually weird being back in the eastern standard. Now when making phone calls I have to time zone subtraction instead of time zone addition.
Spent some quality time in Iowa City with my friend Peter. He showed me the nightlife that kids enjoy while attending the University of Iowa. Apparently one of the hip bar promos there is 21 pichers for $21 on your 21st birthday. No word on the subsequent 21 DUIs and 21 date rapes. Another inexplicably popular fad is pub crawl groups. This entails putting together a group, getting matching T-shirts made, and then all wearing them out on the same night when you go out club hopping. There is no way this would have worked in my college experience. Athenians are way too cool for that. But the city did turn me on to the coolest laundramat in the world. They provided free laundry supplies. If you needed detergent, fabric softener, etc. you just went over to the counter and took it. But the real kicker was their dryer policy. If your clothes didn’t fully dry on the first cycle (which mine never do) you simply alerted the attendent and then she provided the funds to remove the remaining bits of moisture from your wardrobe.
I had planned to visit Miineapolis and Milwaukee (really wanted to check out the birth places of Prince and the Violent Femmes), but the weather was not cooperative. I ended up spending a night in Toledo. While out to grab some dinner, I noticed a tavern tucked between a bowling alley and a Motel 6. If you think I passed up the opportunity to pound down a couple of cold ones there, then you don’t know me that well. I walked in and sat at the bar. There was a couple to my left, and a couple to my right. I ordered my beer, paid my $1.75 (and it wasn’t even on special) and sat back ready to soke in some culture. That didn’t take long. The TV was broadcasting the women’s figure skating medal ceramony. The fellow to my left looked at the screen and gave a breakdown of the result more consise than Scott Hamilton could ever dream of, “Two Americans and a chink.” I was quite sure the countries represented were Japan, USA and Russia. He then repeated his world wise assesment of the final standings, “Two Americans and a chink.” His female companion and the bartender were discussing which of the two girls had taken Michelle Kwan’s place. I knew the answer was neither. Seeing as how one of the skaters was on the team before Kwan, one was Japanese and one was Russian. I decided my involvement in this conversation would not add enjoyment to anyone’s evening (plus, the rest of Mr. Xenophobia’s bowling team was sure to stroll though the doors any second now). At this point, my personal nominee for the next US Ambassador to the UN piped up again, “I never understood how a chink got to be on the American team.” At this point all I could think was, “Wow. I sure am glad I’m up north with all these progressive thinking folks and not back down south where everyone is a racisct redneck.”
The next day I made my way into Cleveland to check out the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame. However this plan was aborted due to the fact that the Hall closes at 5:00 PM. Not very metal. So I headed down to Amish country and kicked it with Maggie and James for a couple of days.
Then back up to Cleveland again. It was a weekday during normal business hours so it was OK to engage in some Rawkin’. The Hall was interesting, but not awe inspiring. It was kinda of like dining at the world’s best Hard Rock Cafe (but the $20 admission chare did include a 12 month subscription to Rolling Stone). Afterwords I headed down to Canton to tour the Professional Football Hall of Fame. The displays on the history of football were entertaining and educational. I now know where the term gridiorn comes from. I could have spent hours viewing the video displays of all the inductees. There was even a display on leagues that challenged the NFL. I enjoyed looking back on the USFL and remembering all those wacky mascots. There was also mention of the AFL, AAFL and WFL. But not a peep about the CFL or XFL. How could there not be a CFL exibit there? The fan interaction was a huge dispointment. It started out with a basic elementary school autumn canival game where you try to throw a football through a hole. Then there were a couple of stations where you could play Madden. After that a NTN trivia game and a chance to play QB1. BORING! The gift shop offered nothing more than 32 very small team stores. The usual crap you would expect and probobly not want, unless you desire a 2005 inductee shirt with Dan Marino’s head on it (by the way I hope he gets gnonoria and dies). After that I spent some time with new Cantonians Anthony, Jill and Alex. It was nice to see them all doing well and settling in.
I left and made my journey toward Pittsburgh. It was harrowing to say the least. Rarely traveled snow covered roads through winding mountains. But I made it.
Last week yet another report was released on the inept government response to hurricane Katrina. This one was titled Lessons Learned. Isn’t that cute. Sounds like the name of a reaffirming book written for elementary school kids. The first list in the lessons learned should have been (1) humans are not amphibious. A smile was put on my face that this report actually called the Red Cross to the mat. I continue my crusade against the heartless fuckers. Down with the Red Cross. Once again, I would like to say to the American Red Cross “Thanks for nothing. Abslolutley nothing. Except for wasting hours of my time waiting on hold, waiting in lines and sitting around shelters.” I was amazed that somehow, once again, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff avoided almost any blame. How could his department have bungled things so badly and he have abslolutely nothing to do with it? The funniest item from the press conference was this quote from White House homeland security advisor Frances Fragos Townsend. “I reject outright any suggestion that President Bush was anything less than fully involved.” Really? Outright reject? Would anyone want to admit to being fully involved in that debacle? Wouldn’t you want to paint a picture of yourself being somewhat out of the loop? Better to labled ignorant than incompetent, right?
It’s been six months since I intially evacuated. Six months without a home. Six months without sleeping in my own bed. It seems like a lifetime ago. Since then so much has happened to me and the place I called home. I still vividly recall those chaotic first few hours and days following Katrina’s landfall. The sadness of watching the images on TV. The joy of hearing a friend’s voice on the phone. The unimaginable horror of getting the worst news possible. The overwhelming relief of talking to someone upon whome I had all but given up hope. The frustration and confusion of the following weeks (and much of that same frustration and confusion still continuing to this day). Many of us have gone back. Many of us have moved on. Many of us are still in limbo. I have moved on, physcially if not mentally. My life is starting to fall into place. I’ve got all but one of my insurance claims settled (that K-21 claim is still in the works). I am still working with FEMA. I am still waiting to hear back from the SBA. And I still hate the American Red Cross. It’ll all be sorted out soon.
So I say to all my friends and loved ones on the Gulf Coast and around the world, from the bottom of my heart, HAPPY MARDI GRAS!

Sioux Falls, SD — I drove through Idaho, Montana, Wyoming and almost all of South Dakota. Beautiful scenery, but not much else. There is like no litter at all up here. Those adopt-a-highway folks must work really hard. They are definately not the absentee parents highways usually have. You know the ones who only show up once a month. I wonder if they ever call these nobel citizens to help clean up the snow? “Look here boys. You don’t just get to come out on the sunny days and run around in orange vests playing grab ass. You chose to adopt this highway, and parenting a highway is a serious responsibilty. So get to shoveling.” Just off I-90 in Sturgis I saw a startling sight. A freaking subdivision. Now don’t get me wrong, I have zero interest in ever living in South Dakota. But if I chose to move out here, it would be because of the lack of population density. I think every person in the state has their own county. Liceanse plate read things like A4. Why would you want to be crammed in around a bunch of other people? I saw Mount Rushmore. It was underwhelming. I don’t think it was because of the sub freezing temperature, or the miserable drive. It just wasn’t that impressive. Maybe if I could have gotten closer (like North By Northwest closer) and grasped the size and scope of the chizzling. Then maybe I would realize that George Washington’s nose is bigger than my apartment and might be sufficiently whelmed. Oh well, time to get back across the Mississippi River.
MILES TRAVELED: 7363
STATES VISITED: 18

Coeur D’Alene, ID — I had a whale of a time in Seattle. It is one of those cities I’ve always wanted to visit. So much art that I love has originated from there (the whole grunge thing, Jimi Hendrix, Sir Mix-A-Lot, a couple of excellent Cameron Crow movies). It is a beautiful city. Snow covered mountains and (as best I could tell) clean waters surronding it in every direction. My hotel was in the Queen Anne section. Out of my window was a view of the Space Needle.
I grabbed a quick and cheap dinner at Dick’s (it is indeed where the poor hang out). I did a little walking, and a little exploring. However, it was quite cold and rather windy so I found a little pub to settle into. I had a nice series of random drunken conversations with random drunken strangers. I was half-assed paying attention to the Olympic coverage on the bar’s TV. Until I noticed the coverage was coming from the CBC. That perked me up. I have very little experience with Canadian TV. I rather enjoyed the experience. There was a lack of fluff pieces and only one host handling the anchoring, analysis and interviews. Some guy from Calgary won what I believe was skeleton, and this seemed to excite the Canadians.
After a few dark beers and a few Jagers, it was time to retire for the evening. It was at this time I realized a tiny quirk about hotels. See, some hotels put the name of the hotel on the room key. Some do not. They either have a generic key, or some type of advertisement for pizza delivery. This can be troubling when traveling (OK, and drinking). Sometimes I do not remember which hotel I am staying at that particular night. When in doubt, I can just hop in to a cab, pull out the key and tell the driver where to take me. This is much more effective that the occasional “take me to the cheap place with the parking garage that’s a few blocks from Denny’s.”
I was going to check out the Space Needle, I mean that’s what you do in Seattle right? However, my economic sensability deemed a $14 elevator ride to not be a good investment. I also considered touring the Experience Music Project. It looked interesting, just not $19.95 interesting. So, I plopped down $13 to spend the afternoon in the Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame. I consider this an excellent use of both my time and money.
About ten seconds into the tour I realized I was nowhere close enough of a science fiction fan to properly enjoy the museum (it was a Star Trek exhibit, which drew nothing more than a shoulder shrug from me). I was impressed with the way the museum presented science fiction as a whole. It wasn’t just some fan boy’s wet dream. The whole museum centered around the theme that all science fiction is based on questions that start “what if?” There was analysis of the history of science fiction and its social impacts. Seeing as how I have read science fiction pretty much never, much of this was lost on me. I was just disapointed at the lack of attention paid to Battlestar Galactica and Buck Rodgers. They did have an entore display devoted to the 80’s Flash Gordon movie. This made me smile.
Afterwords I just drove around for a little while playing this game where I would point at places and say aloud to myself “That was in Singles,” or “That was in …Say Anything.” Then it was time to head east (seeing as how I couldn’t really go any further north or west). I pretty much drove every inch of I-5. From Tiajuana to Vancouver, I was there. I drove through some majecstic mountains that had recently experienced some serious snow (it was all packed up on the side of the road, someitmes even obstructing road signs). One thing I will say about the state of Washington, its crime rate must be ridiculously low. People there are even afraid to speed. It was almost impossible to find anyone on the interstate going in excess of 65 MPH (and the speed limit was 70 MPH). As I zoomed along at what I deemed a reasonable rate, I saw some flashing lights in my rear view. Turns out they were being directed at me. The trooper informed me of my car’s speed and the difference between that number and the posted speed limit (turns out the one assigned to my car was the larger of the two). He asked for my state issued identification that proved I could legally operate a motor vehicle. Turns out he was from Lake Charles. We had a little hurricane chat and then he sent me on my way with only a stern safety warning. Tomorrow continues the drive of hell across the plain states. This will be a good opportunity for me and my ipod to bond. Damn I love that little piece of machinery. If it had a hole I’d… feed it a cupcake (oh you didn’t think… that’s gross).
MILES DRIVEN: 6095
STATES VISITED: 15

Portland, OR — I currently am south of sober and north of the 45th parallel. That means I am drunk and closer to the North Pole than I am to the Equater. I had my longest travel day thus far. San Francisco to Portland was a haul, but a beautiful journey. This is a majestic land in which I live. Before this trip is over, I’m gonna end up being some tree hugging enviornmentalist. There is some amazing beauty in the west, and I want people to stay away from it. On a completely unrelated note I was watching the E! News ticker earlier and saw it scrawl “The company that released the Paris Hilton sex tape plans to release a tape featuring Kid Rock and Scott Stapp.” There were some other words after that, but I didn’t read them. This will be the hottest and best selling celebrity gay sex tape ever.
Jumping back into reality, the City By The Bay was one of my favorite stops. The city offered everything, good sites, good culture, good food, good times and most importantly good friends. Big thanks to Heather and Oleg for their hospitality and company. I hadn’t seen either of them in over four years and that was far too long. Also got to check out the San Francisco comedy scene with Matt Morales. This marked the third time I had ever seen Matt and the first time a strip club wasn’t involved.
The trip up from Los Angeles was mainly a high speed afair. It’s going to be hard to adjust when I get back east and can’t spend hours driving in excess of 90 MPH. Going into the city I crossed the Bay Bridge. I quickly renamed this the GOD DAMNED THREE MOTHER FUCKING DOLLAR BRIDGE. I later changed my tune when I found out the Golden Gate Bridge cost $5. Even though I am a huge Raiders fan, I neglected the oportunity to stop off in Oakland. After crossing the bridge I had an idea for a new reality show. Take people from south Louisiana, give them a car with manual transmission and film them driving in San Francisco. I think the quantity of fatlaities would be offset by the quality of entertainment.
The first night featured a scrumptious Italian meal in North Beach (including a dish I had never tried before). While walking to the resturant, we encountered a blackout. This didn’t phase my host (because apparently this is not an unusual occurance in San Francisco) or me (becuase I had some familiarity in dealing without a lack of electricity). Dinner conversation was largely populated with Katrina talk. This was the first time in months I’ve been in a situation to relive the days of late August and September. It was interesting to go back there again. After dinner Heather and I went out in the Mission. We discussed our happening-way-to-soon mid-life crisises. And I saw maybe the coolest thing I’ve seen on all of my journeys. We stopped by a bar called Amnesia which was having their blue grass Monday. Neat enough, but the performer was Toshio Hirano. He is a middle-aged Japanese gentelman who is an exceptional blue grass musician. He would play some Jimmy Rogers, then some Hank Williams, then some Jimmy Rogers, then some traditional cowboy songs, then some Jimmy Rogers, then more Jimmy Rogers, and what the hell, toss in some Jimmy Rogers. It was a surreal experience to see this man up there performing these tunes, but you got lost in that because he is REALLY good. And his stereotypical modest Japanese between song banter just sold the deal. If for any reason I am ever doing some type of tour, I totally want this guy opening for me. And I inplore all who read this to stop by and check out his show if you are ever in the Bay Area. Later that night we went to a bar that was a formerly a beauty parlor, and retianed most of the equipment, but added a kissing booth. Good times all around.
The next day me and Heather cashed in her rain check for a Segway tour. I can totally see why these little devises didn’t quite catch on, but they are fun to drive. If you ever want to feel like a total dork, ride through a city wearing a helmet, gloves and a floresent vest while driving a Segway. Not that me or Heather gave a fuck, but we were not oblivious to the fact. We knew we were being cheeseball tourist and reveled in it. Afterwords we grabbed some lunch at Taylor’s then picked up Oleg for a life changing experience. We stopped by 826 Valencia. This was by far the best pirate store I have been to on my current excursion. Yes they sold skull & crossbone flags. Yes they sold puffy shirts. Yes they sold eye patches. No they didn’t sell lard. You had to barter for the lard.
The next day I ventured out on my own. I saw Lombard St and Union Square. I hung off the front of a cable car. I shopped a spy store. Yes, a pirate store and a spy store on consecutive days. No one should be allowed this much joy. That night I met up with Matt and he took me too the Punchline and Cobb’s. I got to see some quality comedy and meet some cool folks. Then we grabbed some food at the Grubstake. There is a certain group of my friends who will understand why I couldn’t stop giggling the entire time I was at this resturant.
Right now I look out my window and see Portland Meadows. Those horses must me cold. But I have to give it to Oregon, you have more rest stops than I have ever seen. They seemed to almost equal the number of exits. And after visiting Los Angeles, Las Vegas, San Francisco and Portland I have almost completed the tour of cities featured in the Grand Theft Auto series.

Las Vegas, NV — I just had what was quite possibly the most boring day anyone from out of town has ever had in Sin City. Most of my day was spent haggling with my hotel and trying to get my FEMA code to go through (apparently the computers were down). This meant I was stuck at this fine lodging facility. Once all of that was cleared up, I took care of some important business. I did some laundry, stopped by Kinko’s and did a little shopping at Walgreen’s. All things I’m sure I could have done just as effectively in Branson, MO.
My time in California was quite enjoyable. I must say that for a state so large (both in square milage and population) it was stunning to see the lack of Civil War monuments. I suppose people out here don’t care much about history.
I made my California stage debut last week. There are so many amazing and talented comedians out there and I had the good fortune to work with several of them at a couple of different shows. Weber’s in Receda has a quality room (or had, the place was sold, and the show I did there was their last). It was hosted by Tim Mars who was gracious enough to squeeze me into his lineup. Some would look at that show and say I bombed, they would be right. Of course I enjoy being arrogant and saying “the crowd wasn’t sophisticated enough for my material.” It’s nice to see years of being away from politics hasn’t hampered my ability to churn out some Grade-A bullshit. The next night I was able to get stage time at The Greek Palace in San Diego. Thanks to Sean Kelly for finding a slot for me. It was a strong room. The crowd was attentive and involved. Also the largest crowd I’ve performed in front of in quite some time (200+). I opened the show. This was an interesting situation seeing as how I was unfamiliar with the room and the city period. I had no idea how they would respond or what went over. Turns out they liked me. Also thanks to Mark Serritera, who bartends at the venue and also performs. He took great care of me as both a comic and a drunk. And a huge debt of gratitude is owed to Rosie Tran for pointing me in the right direction on these shows.
And since I’m throwing out gratitude all over the place, thanks to Matt, Tom and Cassy for giving me a comfey couch (and to Charlie and Dakota for all the wake-up calls, nothing to break you from a slumber like having your feet licked). And another big thank you to Beckie for giving me my first good haircut in over six months (at an amazing bargain). I knew that one day my knack for being nice to young, attractive, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, big-breasted women would pay off.
I watched the Royal Rumble at the Hooter’s in Pacific Beach. For those of you that missed the PPV, it sucked the sweat of a dead man’s balls. Any card that features Mark Henry in the main event is surely doomed (even Kurt Angle couldn’t make that work). I had expected a much bigger pop for Rey Mysterio Jr winning the Rumble since I was watching it in the 619.
Another State of the Union, and our country is still fucked. Before the speech a woman was arrested. I dare not even speak her name, thus giving her more of what she craves — attention. This so stopped being about her son a long time ago. You are not a great leader, you are a media whore. I supported you at one time, I no longer do. Please go lead a private life. As has been noted, President Bush made what could generously be described as a passing mention of the Gulf Coast. Why? Well, would you like to publicly recall quite possibly the biggest fuck up of your career? Hey federal government, New Orleans hears your silence, it is deafening and speaks volumes. The President recently said in order to facilitate federal funding, Louisiana needs a plan. I ask what is the plan for Iraq? Does this impact the military funding? Oh yeah, bring democracy. Got some bad news, just because people vote, doesn’t mean they will vote for the desired candidates (Hamass anyone?). What is the plan for alternative energy? Exxon-Mobile reports record earnings after spending the fall whining about the damages sufferd from the Gulf Coast hurricanes. Are you fucking kidding me? The President was right, our nation is addicted to oil. What’s the rehab plan here? The Iowa Cauceses are 24 months away so nobody has to pretend like ethynol is a good idea. The only solution that has a chance is some type of alternative fuel source. Americans (myslef included) love cars, love driving and love living in heated homes. I don’t have an answer, but science was never my strong point. After decades of bitching about this nation’s dependancy on foreign oil, shouldn’t some smart person somewhere have come up with something? I guess nobody wants to be the next Tucker.
In the same week two different segments of the media gets to overanalyze a significant event. The sports media is busy looking at the Super Bowl from more angles than exists in a techtohedron. And the news media gets to break down the State of the Union. CNN went so far as to have a guy with a telestrater. This wonder of modern television was used to show us which side of Congress was standing or sitting after certain comments in the speech. I was still somewhat confused until the journailst (?) started using red and blue to distinguish between the Democrats and Republicans. Like it matters. Democrat or Republican, all three branches are fucked. The federal government works like the human digestive system, it doesn’t matter what you put in, it all comes out the same.
MILES DRIVEN: 4152
STATES VISITED: 12