Wednesday photobloggery

Last bits from Houston.

See, I caught a fleeting glimpse, from the freeway, of a giant chicken in front of what I thought was a church. An hour or so and several margaritas later, we found it.

chicken

There was a second chicken in the back yard, at ground level. Oddly enough, the people living in the house were unaware of this one…

chicken2

And of course, there was the star spangled banana

banana

Sweet deal

I just got the following NYT “breaking news” email:

Candy Maker Reported Near Deal for Chewing Gum Giant

Mars, the makers of M&M’s, was near a deal last night to
acquire the Wm. Wrigley Jr. Company, the chewing gum concern,
for more than $22 billion, people involved in the talks said.
The transaction would create a confectionery behemoth and
could pressure rivals into a cascade of other mergers

Try as I might to grasp the true economic import of this, I just can’t get past the phrase “confectionery behemoth.”

Houston (on everything)

chickenlong

The good:

Steve fuckin’ Earle. Crappy venue, spotty turnout, drunken howling audience members but he brought it on every damn song, and and he and Allison Moorer dissed the administration and the Republicans and the media at every available opportunity.

The tzatziki at Niko Niko’s

2 out of 3 margaritas at King Biscuit

Catching up on the Eschacon lowdown

Poodle ear plush

racy’s 3 a.m. riff on subprime lending

The bad:

The constant humidity.

Verizon Wireless theatre.

Concert-goers at the above-named venue. Austin and New York have spoiled me. It felt like we’d somehow stumbled into a suburban Baptist church

dawg

The ugly:

My hair. See “humidity,” above. I completely gave up on making it behave and just worked the Scrooge McDuck look.

The comma-brows of the woman RM was girl-watchin’ on the patio. Also her boyfriend’s golf visor. Just.Do.Not.Understand straight girls sometimes…

(For the Terry Allen-impaired, reference for the post title)

Sunday morning comin’ down video: little poodle dog

gabby

Mademoiselle Gabby would likely find this most unseemly:

(damn, does Marcia Ball rock or what?)

Good people

Will be seeing Mr. Earle (and possibly Mrs. Earle) tonight, far away in another galaxy.

Travel bloggage, perhaps later.

Moore: “for Obama The Movement”

Here’s why I don’t blog about politics more: because I often don’t notice things like this until a day or two after everyone else does. Granted, the PA primary blocked out the sun for most of the week so far, but even so Michael Moore’s endorsement of Obama was big news for a couple of reasons.

First, it almost certainly caused the candidate some cringing. The poo-flinging from the Rebublicans began in earnest this week, and HRC’s tactics haven’t eased any either. Moore’s endorsement has the potential to be albatross material for either side to exploit. It’s no surprise, therefore, that Bill O’Reilly jumped at the chance.

On the other hand, despite saying he’s more for the movement than the man, Moore does some helpful water carrying for Obama by calling attention to the Clintons’ own earlier association with Jeremiah Wright during the Lewinsky days, and by noting that Obama hasn’t struck back at HRC with it himself.

Mrs. Clinton continues to throw the Rev. Wright up in his face as part of her mission to keep stoking the fears of White America. Every time she does this I shout at the TV, “Say it, Obama! Say that when she and her husband were having marital difficulties regarding Monica Lewinsky, who did she and Bill bring to the White House for ‘spiritual counseling?’ THE REVEREND JEREMIAH WRIGHT!

But no, Obama won’t throw that at her. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be decent. She’s been through enough hurt. And so he remains silent and takes the mud she throws in his face.

That’s why the crowds who come to see him are so large. That’s why he’ll take us down a more decent path.

For the record, I pretty much agree with Moore’s assessment of Clinton. Much as I hate the circular firing squad sniping between BO partisans and HRC supporters on the neighborhood blogs, I jumped off the fence after the Move On attack, because for me, that’s the first time she sounded downright crazy.

Clinton vs Obama aside, it should be noted that Moore’s endorsement statement isn’t altogether rosy:

I know some of you will say, ‘Mike, what have the Democrats done to deserve our vote?’ That’s a damn good question. In November of ’06, the country loudly sent a message that we wanted the war to end. Yet the Democrats have done nothing. So why should we be so eager to line up happily behind them?

I’ll tell you why. Because I can’t stand one more friggin’ minute of this administration and the permanent, irreversible damage it has done to our people and to this world. I’m almost at the point where I don’t care if the Democrats don’t have a backbone or a kneebone or a thought in their dizzy little heads. Just as long as their name ain’t “Bush” and the word “Republican” is not beside theirs on the ballot, then that’s good enough for me.

I, like the majority of Americans, have been pummeled senseless for 8 long years. That’s why I will join millions of citizens and stagger into the voting booth come November, like a boxer in the 12th round, all bloodied and bruised with one eye swollen shut, looking for the only thing that matters — that big “D” on the ballot.

Don’t get me wrong. I lost my rose-colored glasses a long time ago.

It’s foolish to see the Democrats as anything but a nicer version of a party that exists to do the bidding of the corporate elite in this country. Any endorsement of a Democrat must be done with this acknowledgment and a hope that one day we will have a party that’ll represent the people first, and laws that allow that party an equal voice.

Reality based folk singing

At lunch today, I sat near a table of older professors holding forth and setting the world to rights. The Bush administration was the topic d’jour and there was talk of an impeachment proceeding on the scale of the Nuremburg tribunals. One of the older men there mentioned this song and a younger man at the table wasn’t familiar with it, so the elder prof recited pretty much the entire song.