Yowza!

You know I like Barack Obama and I had every intention of voting for him even though I knew full well he’d be lucky to make it through the first year. We’ve come a long way when it comes to racism in this country but the ever-diminishing herds of inbred, WalMart-shopping, NASCAR fanatics who hate anybody not white and stupid is still dangerous. Up in Golden, Colorado rival biker gangs took time off from their busy schedule of feuding and selling drugs to unite in order to harass Arab news network Al Jazeera as they covered small town America’s reaction to Obama’s nomination. I’m sure they were impressed at all the colorful epithets hundreds of people who can’t even spell “epithet” hurled at them. It was nice for Obama because all of those ignorant crackers forgot to harass (or worse) him.

I knew that John McCain was going to offset his antiquity by tapping a younger running mate. I never thought it would be Sarah Palin and I approve of tapping her. I think we all do. She might be smart, I don’t mean to be sexist but as my black friends like to say: DAMN! Or, as my white friends who try to be black would say: BOOYA!

She’s pretty hot. Not just for a vice presidential candidate either, although Dan Quayle would not have maintained his purity for more than 20 minutes in prison. I don’t know if Dan would have made it through Boy Scout camp without being forced to grab his ankles. Anyway, Dan Quayle’s soft femininity aside, Palin is quite the piece of tail. That might be disrespectful but it’s not like she doesn’t put it out there.

I don’t know anything about her politics but she can impose her economic policy on me anytime. I wouldn’t mind if she violated my civil rights. Hard. And that’s what McCain is counting on. He knows he can gain an edge over Obama because he’s white and has a plain old white name. John McCain: he’s like a big loaf of Wonder bread with the crusts already removed. They don’t even let brides wear such a shade of white because nobody is that pure. McCain can’t beat Obama in a debate but as long as Obama is black and named Obama, that’s all the advantage McCain needs. Watch, when they do debate I bet McCain says Obama’s name like 400 times. Obama…Barack Obama….Barack Hussein Obama…Obama mama…negrobama....

Nobody really cares about the VP. They’re all about image. You have to find a counterpoint to the Presidential candidate in order to appeal to a bigger cross section of voters. In other words, you have to pander to prejudice. So Obama picked an old white guy who talks about coal mines, shot guns and whatever else sounds rugged. McCain can talk about all of those things because he was born before we had them.

I had a feeling that McCain might pick a woman because so many of Hillary’s supporters were disgruntled when Obama beat her for the nomination. I figured it would be a young woman as well. I didn’t think it would be Wonder Woman. Joe Biden doesn’t stand a chance in the VP debates because everybody is going to be looking at her boobs. I know I will and I’m not a boob man. I’m a card carrying member of the ass brigade but I’m not above breaking ranks and casting the occasional vote for a nice set of jugs.

McCain is counting on that because he’s old and ugly. He’s wrinkled and grizzled and old. He served in the Navy when they were still using sails and went to school in a sod house with the other four kids that hadn’t been kidnapped by marauding bands of Huron Indians. He’s grouchy and old. Ancient. Like dirt, but whiter…and older. But how can I look at the Depends-wearing geezer in the corner when there’s a hot chick in the middle of the room. How you doin’?

Now I like to pretend I know about politics but I didn’t know who Sarah Palin was before I heard her named mentioned as McCain’s running mate. I looked her up online but really didn’t get past the image search. I guess she was the Governor of Alaska or is or saw the Governor of Alaska somewhere. I don’t care. She looks like a dominatrix out of a fetish film…or so I might imagine.

How would she run the country if (if?) McCain passed away? Hopefully with an unrelenting desire to whip us all into submission. Look, things are pretty well hosed. We need to just admit that George W. Bush’s idiocy was more powerful than the Constitution. We voided the warranty on our government by putting a moron into office. It’s nice to talk about fixing things, but it’s not going to happen. So in November I’m casting my vote for a great set of boobs and I hope you’ll join me. If we’re on a collision course with disaster we might as well enjoy the view. That’s what John McCain wants, and, damn it, that’s good enough for me.

Fat Guy on a little Bike

I've been biking to work most of the summer. A bicycle...the kind you pedal. I could even say that I go uphill both ways because a river cuts through the middle of Columbus and creates a valley that forces me to endure a pretty strenuous climb each way. It's not the Pyrenees , but it does make for a good workout. The reasons are many: high gas prices, exercise, vehicular homicide....You know, the usual. I actually enjoy it because I've always enjoyed riding a bike. I think it's because the seat hits my prostate in just the right spot.

My commute is actually respectable at 11 miles one way. That's a total of 22 miles over the course of the day and that's more than most people bike in a month. So I carry the smug satisfaction of being better than all of them. It's pretty rewarding in that regard. I also bike just for the fun of it on the weekends. So yes, my ass does feature a bald patch in the shape of my saddle.

Now don't get the wrong impression. I'm not Lance Armstrong. In fact, I look like I might have eaten Lance Armstrong. I'm a big guy which is a nice way of saying I'm fat. Are there fatter people? Sure, but I still could stand to lose more weight than I'd like to admit because I'm just enough of a girl to be bashful about it.

So there I am pedaling to work and people are thinking, Jesus Christ that poor bike. Or, where's he heading, Krispy Kreme? I smile as they drive by, staring, wondering how that bike hasn't somehow slipped right up my big fat ass. It's some sort of miracle.

When people ask me about my commute disbelief seems to wash over their faces. I get the fish eye. 11 miles? No way. They offer faint patronizing praise that is usually reserved for Special Olympians. I know they don't believe me and that's OK because I'm not doing it for them.

It just drives home the point that losing weight is hard. Not technically speaking, of course, but knowing you have to eat less and exercise more and consistently following through with it are two very different things.

I'm not one of these chunks who wants sympathy. I'm responsible for myself and it's a work in progress. Biking is a small part of it and if I'm being honest the fact that I can maintain a relatively high level of physical activity makes me happy. I'm not one of those people who needs to rest for 10 minutes after squeezing his big fat ass into his car. So that's something, and for now it'll do. For now.

Girlie Man

I like to think of myself as a man but lately I’m wondering. The Olympics are going on right now and I don’t care. College football season is ready to start and I’m not excited and my beloved Cleveland Browns are supposed to be a contender this year and I’m not memorizing the schedule.

This is really bad because I write a sports blog. I think I enjoy sports but for some reason I’m not passionate about them any more. I don’t know why. I still have balls. I stumbled over a football in the hallway just this morning and I even played basketball last week. I enjoy my weekly soccer matches. I’m just not feeling the spectator side of things.

There’s just so much coverage. Everywhere I go it’s sports, sports, sports. That used to be cool. I never thought I’d get sick of ESPN but here I am barfing away. I never really cared for Bob Costas but now I want to set him on fire. He’s such a schmuck. Does he lay it on thick. When he’s waxing philosophically I have to check the channel to make sure I’m not watching Oxygen or Lifetime.

I’m convinced that it’s the Olympics. If you read my blogs at all you might get the impression that I’m just a little bit of a cynic and that acerbic little chip in my brain makes it hard to swallow the schmaltz NBC is dousing the games in. Just the other day I told a guy that I’ll wait for conformation on the drug test results before I get excited about Michael Phelps, but the truth is I never will because I take no interest in swimming. Yes, he won eight gold medals but is it really that big a deal? He’s a swimmer so he gets more chances to medal than anybody else. It would be like running the 100 meter dash with different shoe laces. Who cares? Not me.

Well, excuse me.

It’s not like anybody else does. We pretend to care once every four years but by the time they blow out the torch we’ve forgotten about everything that happened. And all of these sports guys talk about how great the games are. Why? I used to think it was cool to set aside politics for a few days and play some games but that doesn’t happen. The games are full of politics…petty little politics like scoring criteria and degrees of difficulty. Boring.

I love how sports guys will completely overstate the significance of an athlete or a sports-related event. The only people who think that way are sports guys who want to write a sappy book like Field of Dreams. Most of us don’t care. I like sports and I don’t care.

Can we please put things back into perspective? These are just games. It’s supposed to be mindless entertainment. Let’s stop talking in superlatives and tone down the drama.

Yes I know, I’ll leave my man points at the door as I leave. It was nice while it lasted.

Now, where my home girls at?