That's how much I care if Eliot Spitzer hires prostitutes. (what is this, an Abbot/Costella routine...or have I missed the News today!)

Tmi. *blushing*

Well, we got a Law here, in Appalachia Glenn, that still prohibits parking your horse or mule in front of the courthouse. No body pays it no mind, neither. *Off the record, I figure this law is more like guidelines as well.

Furthermore, I have never been completely comfortable with phrase 'we are a nation of Laws.' Imo, we are nation of human beings that have some good laws and ...some not so good. (*The pending Bush/Telecom Immunity and Amnesty Act, comes to mind)

bah.

ps.(I'm still fuming over that sumbitch John Bolton! As Dr. Timberman pointed out in commentary, Bolton has a genetic affliction called Complete/Total Spinal Cord Reversal Syndrome, i.e. backwards spine. Sadly, no matter which 'head' he uses, this affliction leaves him talking out his ass.)

1. Send all prostitutes to institutions of higher-learning where they can further refine their obvious free-market talents. Anybody who can get $1,000/hr. for Sex, has some real skills, imho. (*Obama has a full college tuition plan in exchange for a little public service for those interested.)

2. Send all 'johns' to ...E-harmony dot com, and hope they get lucky.

...that's all I can think of, for now.

bah.

ps. I believe Glenn covered Gov. Spitzer's hypocrisy?

* If I could get $1,000/hr. for sex I would almost certainly be RICH. and famous. *In my view, the most harmful aspects of prostitution is when it is employed/bartered in sustaining a drug/alc. addiction. Just my opinion.

* If I were Gov. Spiter's wife, I would not have attended the 'resignation' event. Fuck em'.

* Glenn's FISA glass ...seems half-full! But he still peers through it but darkly. :)

* I wish I had a field of clover to turn-under/over, GC! (*Clover IS the best cover crop). ...& STrawberry fields forever.

* Timberman: have you ever tried a dollar menu Happy squid meal? The double macdoddleburgers will get the best of you...Greece, is the place for squid. *Although [(encrypted)] my first girlfriend was a Horde in Naples and fed me cephalopod and other hairless cetetacians. I liked that horde a lot.]

* no spring chicken,

bah.

OT ~[Don't worry about the lava-flows William. I've got a deal with mt. Vesusvius... it wont' blow again until Im' dead and long gone.

This should give me time to return to Sorrento ...O' Sorrento. What a place. I spent about 8 months in one of 'older' hotels on the cliffs overlooking the blue sea and Isle of Capri. *Roman tile, sleep late, breakfast in bed, spectacular views, and then sing with gypsy Kings all night throwing dollars on the floor. what a life*.] encrypted.

bah.

I doubt that.

At least McCain came home from the conflict overseas.

The way I see it '... the time that he served,

has shattered all his nerves.'

...

(Sam Stone: by John Prine)

Sam Stone came home,

To the wife and family

After serving in the conflict overseas.

And the time that he served,

Had shattered all his nerves,

And left a little shrapnel in his knees.

But the morhpine eased the pain,

And the grass grew round his brain,

And gave him all the confidence he lacked,

With a purple heart and a monkey on his back.

CHORUS:

There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes,

Jesus Christ died for nothin I suppose.

Little pitchers have big ears,

Don't stop to count the years,

Sweet songs never last too long on broken radios.

Sam Stone's welcome home

Didn't last too long.

He went to work when he'd spent his last dime

And soon he took to stealing

When he got that empty feeling

For a hundred dollar habit without overtime.

And the gold roared through his veins

Like a thousand railroad trains,

And eased his mind in the hours that he chose,

While the kids ran around wearin' other peoples' clothes...

CHORUS

Sam Stone was alone

When he popped his last balloon,

Climbing walls while sitting in a chair.

Well, he played his last request,

While the room smelled just like death,

With an overdose hovering in the air.

But life had lost it's fun,

There was nothing to be done,

But trade his house that he bought on the GI bill,

For a flag-draped casket on a local hero's hill.

Unfortunately, master card don't service the poorer Appalachian areas, or I'd send him a donation.

... we're with you in spirit, though, Barack. :)

bahhummingbug

transcendent charisma. That's how I might best describe this speech, Glenn.(& almost as insightful as his 'pre-war' speech. Refer to it, if you haven't already.)

And like 'the speech' (pre-war one) let there be no mistake: It's purpose was 'no mere outburst of ignorant emotionalism or an expression of vague and pious hope.' It's appeal is not merely to foster a kumbahya moment of brotherly love and good-will among individual peoples, 'races' (or Appalachians). Rather, it implies a structual re-organization and change in the way which we view ourselves as Americans - and by extension, the world. In short, it was inclusive at the expense of exclusion - Poets might put it this way;

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you." (*Walt Whitman)

I don't want to bug you, but Freud* (in his 'Civilization and It's Discontents') says the purpose of Mankind has ever been an inextricable evolution toward it's own collective identity. From family life to tribal solidarity, leading to the formation of city-states and, finally, in the formation of sovereign nations. Ultimately then, this logic suggests the well-being and peace of the world is, as evolution requires, inevitable, and based on an unshakeable faith and understanding of its realization.

(*don't ask me how Freud arrived at these conslusions. Ask William, he may know.)

kumbahya'all,

bah.