December Wolves: Let Me Get This Straight

I know there's been a lot of comic book posts recently. One is because they're a big new status quo to talk about that can be done easily and they're done in a serialized format so it's easy to keep track of them and there's an entire month between issues to bounce ideas around.

So I'm going back to the world of politics, because that's...something I feel like I've neglected. I think it's just because these kind of posts are harder because I feel compelled to look for links as evidence. Or maybe I'm just tired and making excuses. Comics are new and shiny. Politics less so.

It's about Obama. It's about the expectations for Obama. It's about what the story about him is versus what he's actually doing. It's about everyone projecting something on Obama.

The Obama presidency is not producing rainbows and sunshine fast enough for the American people, so there's a bunch of douchebags running around asking where's the change. They don't take into account that the GOP, since being run out of office, has been blocking pretty much anything. How Bush got so much done was he helped guide the Republican Party towards ideological purity in this sad case, literally.

The Democrats, on the other hand, have to fix the economy, while being held to "fiscally responsible" budgets by a bunch of Republicans who spent money in the last eight years like it was going out of style. It's frustrating. The Republican suggestions to help pay down the debt and stimulate sales were more tax cuts. My response is: "cute, but no."

Obama was the candidate of change, not the candidate of pixie dust and hundred dollar bills growing on trees. Obama was the candidate of hope, not the candidate of telling the Blue Dog Democrats to shut the fuck up and vote the party line. It's frustrating that the narrative around Obama's candidacy was that he came in on wings of bullshit and promised a magic wand to fix America's problems in a way no one would disagree with.

This is not to say Democrats have been faultless. Pelosi rides into office citing ethical responsibility then looks the other way while Murtha and Rangel (Rangel was the Chairman of the Ways and Means Committee and Murtha was known widely as one of the most corrupt Senators around.) stuff their faces AND it comes out that Pelosi knew about the torture after she claimed what the CIA was doing was news to her. Let me repeat that faster, the new Speaker of the House lied on a core issue to her continued campaigning, which focused on ethical leadership.

This is not a little white lie. This is a lie about one of the bona fides. This is exactly the kind of behavior that Pelosi railed against the Republicans for and got into office on. While I'm railing against the Democrats, I'll pause here and say Keith Olbermann is a loudmouth toolbox, just as skeezy as the commentators he spews against. He may use bigger words, but the message is the same: EVIL. WRONG. RAGE.

Let me go back to those douchebags, though. It hasn't even been a year since Obama took office and already he's been called a magic negro, had policies that haven't even been voted on yet compared to Hitler's gas chambers and his eligibility to be president has been questioned based on gossip that sounds like it came straight from 4chan. And the worst part? All of those have been presided over by the Republican hierarchy. The "magic negro" song was made by Huckabee's national campaign manager who was, at the time, a frontrunner for the RNC chair, the gas chamber bit has been fanned by Michele Bachmann and Karl Rove, and the birth certificate bit...well, just Google GOP + birth certificate.

These people put too much on Obama, whether it's Democrats or Republicans. He's a liberal guy who is president in a country where the districts are gerrymandered, except for the ones that aren't, so there's a permanently entrenched groups of Senators/Representatives because they choose the boundaries of what districts they represent. And that's why the moderates are so scared, because they actually have a meaningful fight for their seats.

It's not like the people that disagreed with Obama went away after Obama was elected, for heaven's sake. These inspirational figures are supposed to be inspiring, not superhuman. They're supposed to make other people rise above. He doesn't make all the problems go away by existing as President. These figures are human. They make mistakes and they're subject to the whims of the American people. When was this forgotten?

I don't normally go for rant posts, but something about the righteousness of the groups arrayed against Obama mixed with their profound ignorance of what's actually written on the Constitution gets under my skin. No, tyranny is not people you don't agree with being in charge. Tyranny is a gun barrel in your mouth, a soldier living in your house and the people who disagree with the way things are going being disappeared after they register anything publicly.

(In short, ask any woman working minimum wage in Juarez.)

Ultimately, the person most at fault is myself. I'll explain: It's dishonest. It's politics. When did I, of all people, forget this?

Demos: The Hand That Feeds

I know using a Nine Inch Nails song is passe on the internet, but I'm listening to a stripped down remix of the song, in which there is a light, ambient noise and piano as Mr. Reznor's only accompaniment. (Plus, With_Teeth wasn't good anyway.) There's also a bit of overlap. This one is about John McCain and who was feeding him when and with what.

I respect the man's service in uniform. I just hope he stops keeping the Republican party line, the one that ruined and tarred him with divisive and insulting race-baiting politics not to mention tying Sarah Palin to his ticket and political fortune. Like most other soldiers that Bush commanded, he also was used and led to ruin. It's just more clearly visible here.

If this inspires you to do anything, I hope it inspires you to look up more information on PTSD treatment for Iraq War veterans, because when they get home, they're going to find a host of problems (mental and emotional) waiting for them on this shore.

And that's assuming they can get a job.



There's something that rubbed me very wrong about Senator John McCain's comment about the $800 billion taxpayer bailout, which he called generational theft.

It's a poor choice of words. Admittedly, it's politics as usual—using overly emotional language to discuss something that is as serious as a heart attack and requires careful attention, which a shot to the gut (of which that imagery strikes) doesn't help.

Personally, I'm of the opinion that the Republican plan of 60% tax cuts versus 40% spending is the wrong way to go. Over the last eight years, we've had quite a few tax cuts and they haven't gotten us very far. I'm in favor of spending a lot of money, but it has to be directed not to one and done jobs (à la construction, see Japan in the 90s) but to industries that have a clear, long term sustainable trajectory.

What McCain means, I believe, is that the money was borrowed from future generations, for us and others to pay back. Which, while accurate, is incredibly callous. It's callous because the resources of my generation have already been plundered, and will never be repaid. That was when all those brave senators stood up and voted to authorize war in Iraq. McCain didn't seem to mind "generational theft" when it was his hand in the cookie jar of my youth.

McCain voted to send people my age out to fight a war when he didn't even bother to read the full 90 page NIE report about Iraq. He voted to spend our resources to fight a war over weapons of mass destruction, a particular point where the U.S.A. hadn't had human intelligence sources for five years. He voted to spend our resources to fight a war when the evidence presented to the Armed Services Committee were blurry pictures of trailers in the desert.

In 2007, when McCain was in Iraq, he said that (based on a visit to the Shorja Market in Baghdad) Baghdad was very safe. And he was right.

Shorja Market was safe because there were 100 troops on the ground and on rooftops in that market. Shorja Market was safe because three Blackhawk and two Apache attack helicopters were circling overhead. He was safe because he didn't remove his bulletproof vest. Traffic was redirected and restricted for that hour-long visit. He went out to visit the production he voted in favor of and found an orchestrated calm.

McCain may want to think more carefully about what he is implying.

When Bush and his water carriers in the Senate and House authorized a war on the other side of the world under false pretenses, it was vital to American national security that it shouldn't be questioned. McCain saw no generation theft there. But when it's an $800 billion spending bill proposed by a Democrat, that's when he draws the line.

We know where McCain stands now that he's away from President Bush. Even though Bush is out of office, it's still too close for my comfort ideologically. I've always felt Senator McCain's political career in this decade has had a tragic quality, and it's no more apparent than here. Quite a few people, myself included, respected him before 2004 because of his ability to speak to more than a traditional base. (Dare I say maverick?) But with the phrase generational theft, McCain continues his slide into a familiar, anonymous role: Republican senator keeping the party line.

And these statements sound as though he's listening to the same people who had a cruel hand in his losing presidential run. The great tragedies end when the protagonists are ruined. After the fiasco that was the post-Palin campaign, McCain isn't looking too good, but I don't want to see his curtain close yet.

Demos: Live Grenades

Obama's in office now. I am going to sleep tonight knowing that the eight years of our long national nightmare is now officially in epilogue mode, I hope. Tonight I had a drink and very nearly did "We Didn't Start the Fire" with five other friends of Eleven Names, but owing to time, we all headed back. When Friday comes, I'll be in full end of week (and end of Bush) mode and the drinks will be raised in celebration rather than commiseration.

CNN and 24 hour news networks have been trying for a long time to find a way to speak about the momentousness of Obama's inauguration. I've got little to bring to the table except a sincere feeling of joy and being estatic. I'm a white, heterosexual, vaguely Christian male. People who like me have been President for a long, long time. I can't tell you, vividly, if at all, what it means to the percentage of the population that isn't like me. I'm, therefore, cynical of the people who are cynical of the inauguration. I literally cannot begin to fathom what hope and possibilities it awakes in the minds of the non-white communities in the U.S. and so to say it doesn't mean that much appears to me, to miss the point, if, in fact, I can plot the point on the map.

Right. This is supposed to be about records. Forgive me. You know how much I like Obama. The Gentlebeast (introduced as much to Thomas and I as he was to you) says that he wants more of King and Obama to overlap and I agree, I just don't want Obama to get shot. So not too much overlap, okay?

I originally wrote this for another feature and only now is it getting published. Originally, this was supposed to be published around February or March of last year, but it got canned because the old features editor already had someone doing CDs that week. Oh well. You can find Polar Bear Club here and Life Long Tragedy here. Life Long Tragedy has already broke up, but Polar Bear Club, it appears, has another disc in them, to be released this year, which excites me almost unreasonably. The title is a fantastic track from Let Me Run's record, Meet Me at the Bottom, which you can stream in its entirety here. Try to give all these awesome music its own space. All of it will grow on you, I hope.

There are two discs that I believe have not been sufficiently highlighted over the last year. The first is by Polar Bear Club and is called "Sometimes Things Just Disappear", and the second is by a group called Life Long Tragedy and is titled "Runaways". The two currently carry with them the weight of some fairly heavy RIYLs, so let's investigate.

Polar Bear Club's disc has the unenviable task of following their blindingly good and stupefyingly emotional "the Redder, the Better" EP, which every track captured, to a great extent, the evolution of modern emo without the philosophically intriguing but socially maddening dress up. Here is where tour hungry, sore throated, now venerated heroes Hot Water Music and Small Brown Bike have their musical progeny, and "Sometimes Things Just Disappear" answers that call. It's old fashioned emo, in the sense that it, rocks, without applying any of the violent, macho overtones that seem to plague the rash of groups having their way with the genre.

Yes, for the most part, it is a disc written about girls and relationships. "What good am I to anyone like this? It's been a hard couple months, I'll admit" vocalist Jimmy Stadt sings, and by the time he drops that line, he's already pleaded "Dr. Howe, please call me back" three times. One suspects the *cough* ladies have not been kind to the poor narrator, and by and large, they haven't. "This boy is spent, but forever unlucky" is the sticking point in "Bug Parade", and that's a song spent watching the lips of the girlfriend and her mother move, trying to discern what they're talking about. The most wrenching song is Heart Attack at Thirty, with it's opening line "eight years from now, I will go into cardiac arrest". It's a disc for the cold times that autumn and winter bring, so I heartily suggest you get cozy with it.

Life Long Tragedy's "Runaways" (the band has now broken up), carries with it the heavy, heavy tag of "the next American Nightmare", which in the hardcore punk scene, may as well be saying "the next Metallica". American Nightmare was a band known, and perhaps defined by Wes Eisold's romantically anti-social, jaded lyrics on hope, lust and love. (His fingerpints are all over Fall Out Boy's last three discs, even when he doesn't get a writing credit.) And on a couple songs, Sweet Innocence in particular, "tomorrow isn't promised, but it's sure as f*ck coming" and "true love was just a marketing ploy, so guys can hit their lines and girls can grab their boys" Life Long Tragedy channel this near-mythic influence (American Nightmare) with startling potency, but also 90's straight edge heroes Unbroken in Runaways' less frantic and pus trickling moments.

Track three Hey Death, though, stands head and shoulders above the rest of the disc. A slow, morose song, which builds and builds to a discharge of "Hey Death, can you stop this beating in my chest?", ending with Scott Phillips screaming for a minute of Death's time. Like the songs that spring from it, the production on "Runaways" feels weighty, oozing and festering. It's not a pretty disc, by any stretch of the lyrical or sonic imagination, the guitars are heavy and clear as mud, which describes the pacing and outlook of the disc fairly well. The bass is filthy. The vocals feel like Mr. Phillips slammed two shots of Liquid Plmbr before recording, and the end result sounds like the draining of an open wound. Not surprisingly, it only makes the songs more palatable to me. It's the grime that lends "Runaways" its remarkable authenticity, its character of being down but not quite out.

I hear all the time that certain artists lay it all out there, with nothing to hide. I recommend Polar Bear Club and Life Long Tragedy to you precisely because they actually lay themselves out there with uncommon effectiveness and poignancy. These discs won't be mentioned on Pitchfork any time soon, but that's fine, they're my secret from me to you. Start telling.

Demos: Painting By Numbers

This is a really early demo, the issues, I heard, was supposed to come out today but didn't because the editors wanted to have a week off when school started. Okay. So, here's something you'll see later on next week. The song is the first track off of Marathon's self-titled record. It would also, sadly, be their last. Listen to more Marathon here.


When ex-Governor Blagojevich was indicted, the response from my Illinois-native friends was swift, but this was telling: The one that seemed most prescient said "You know, I always thought the mayor would be indicted first." Knowledge is power, as we've learned in Saturday morning cartoons and any mafia movie ever, but that doesn't entirely describe Chicago. Yes, where's mine might be the mantra of City Hall, but the reason why the big politicians have stayed big in Chicago is not just because of the machine, but the most important detail is what they recuse themselves from.
It's incredibly bold for Burris to accept now-arrested governor's appointment, but to say that God spoke to the governor to appoint Burris goes beyond staggering self-importance and into messiah complex territory. Burris, as we all know, is a raging egomaniac, but he's also a pragmatic one, comparing Harry Reid and the Senate Democrats, whom he wishes to join, to famous Southern racists. Classy.
Not much remains to be said about the now-arrested governor (protesting too much, odd behavior patterns that make the viewer ask: cocaine?, bad haircut, etc), except that this, as everyone from Illinois knows, is the tip of the iceberg. A juicy little tidbit (I think I got this from the Daily Show) is that Representative Bobby Rush has backed Burris' appointment, saying that it was an imperative that a black man remain in the Senate. The statement was plenty distasteful and transparent, but made more so by the fact that Rush, when given the opportunity, backed the white incumbent that President-Elect Barack Obama unseated when he had the choice earlier this decade.
Speaking of which, the idea that Obama (or anyone from his campaign) is wrapped up with Blagojevich is laughable. Anyone politically cognizant in Illinois has known this guy was radioactive since 2006 and the idea that his phones were tapped should not surprise those same people.
The fact that he might actually be my state's next senator is concerning, but I have a lot of faith that the voters of Illinois, myself included, will kick his ass out the first chance we get. That is the genius and madness of the American political system. Problem is, Burris is more of the second and significantly less of the first.

WHOA WHOA WHOA HOLD UP

Gentle readers, observe as our corpse spasms grotesquely, another gurgling breath drawn into the wet and sinewy pile of smoking gristle that once served as our lungs. Be not aghast at our undead respiration, instead, we beg only that you watch onward with the clinical detachment of a Victorian corpse-thief, or perhaps some kind of modern insurance adjuster.

What a world! Gas is cheap, and there are some decent bands around now. Also, did we miss a chance to gush over Obama? We did! Hooray for Obama!

One cannot help but make lists (lists!) of the life-altering events that happen in one's life. First and foremost, the fall of Communism. Secondly, 9/11. Thirdly, Obama is elected. The common thread through these isn't hard to piece together - people coming together. The Berlin Wall brought a sense of completeness, of an end to the fractious and childish nature of the Cold war. September Eleventh brought people together in the most dire way possible, made us huddle together for warmth in the face of not just an uncaring universe, but one that is actually subtly menacing. And Obama is, in many ways, the coda to 9/11, the antidote to almost a decade of Bush-era big-brother tactics, a man promising to unite an entire country, instead of a neo-con babbler, taking perverse glee in alienating themselves further and further from anything resembling a conscientious citizen.

My great burden is that I am trained to see things in a literary sense - my eyes strain to trace the arc of rising action of the bildungsroman of Obama, of the tragic presidency of George W. Bush, the Prospero of our Tempest, begging us to free him from the island of history with our applause.

Whoa, how's that for a shitty metaphor?

Anyway. The difficulty with this biz-ness is that reality doesn't serve as a cohesive arc, or rather, that it's too cohesive. We are all the main characters of our own lives, so that makes it hard to achieve any kind of clinical separation needed in order to analyze a given work. Maybe if we could achieve it, we'd unlock our chakras and turn into buddhas - isn't that what enlightenment is, after all? Rising above the cycle of constant rebirth and involvement, and just sorta chillin' out?

This is all a silly and meandering thing. Suffice it to say, there will be more silly and meandering posts later. Hopefully, less self-indulgent. But probably not! Elevennames hooray!

We're Not Dead Yet

Oh poor elevennames, do not fear, we have not forgotten you . . .

At least I haven't. So I will write you something. It may not be wonderful or especially deep, but it will be all for you.

Admittedly, I have never been very good at keeping up with current events. Normally I find anything that has happened in the last 400 years or so to be "boring". I like ancient history, Egypt, Greece, and Rome, up through the late Middle Ages. My reasoning is this: if you study enough history you will learn that there are linchpins in time, and those moments are what make history interesting. These are moments that define everything that come after them. For example, unless you have a firm grasp of Rome during the late Republic and early Empire, you probably have only a superficial understanding of anything that happened during the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, or the American Revolution.

There are other members of the elevennames staff who are far more interesting in the happenings of the here and now. However, since they have been otherwise occupied during the past few weeks I will try and talk about what has been happening out there in non-internet world.

Well, John McCain went back to visit his old high school, apparently his nicknames were "punk" and "McNasty". And this is a man who might be our next President. Yeah, American, feel reassured. The school called an assembly to celebrate McCain's visit and once student actually asked McCain what he thought about the fact that the entire student body had to attend what was essentially a political event. McCain didn't really have a response, but I think that girl kicks ass.

Lets see, Obama and Clinton went bowling together earlier this week, supposedly Obama did not do well. The Clinton campaign is using this as victory point for Hillery, who is apparently very good at bowling and even owns her own shoes. Acording to some this makes her a good canditade for running our country. You know, in case bowling is the key to protecting America from future terrorist attacks.

So yeah, thats all I've got for tonight.

Hopefully we'll have more to write about later.

The giant clown gloves on my hands are merely proof of my devotion.

Hello, gentle readers.

I realize that the staple rule of all internet interaction is not to feed the troll, but sometimes something so incalculably brilliant appears that you simply have to toss the slavering beast a few scraps. Behold Hitch Bitch. Perhaps the most erudite 15-year-old nihilist on the entire staff of Vanity Fair (take that, Kendrick Darkrayven) will even get his comeuppance. If reading the New Yorker has taught me anything, and it hasn't, it's that college professors often have nothing better to do other than think up zingers in response to the things that they read.

Because they are nerds, Lebowski.

Anyway, I apologize for my absence (I'm certain you were tres desolee) but I had stuff to do. Like go west of the Allegheny River, to Columbus, Oheeyo. It is a strange land, full of bars and sex shops and then more bars and then more sex shops and then! Aldi's! LET'S RENT SOME DAMN SHOPPING CARTS! The entire state seems to be riddled with Arby's and Cracker Barrels, too, so if you've got a hankering for biscuits or roast beef, allow me to merely point the way middle-west. Though if Ohio is the mid-west, does that make Pennsylvania the mid-east? Or are the mid-Atlantic states simply content to exist as they are (Mid-Atlanticism), proudly being neither southern nor western? Oh H E double hockeysticks, we already passed up that theme week, didn't we?

One of the greatest vices I indulge in is political bickering. For the record, I don't especially hate any candidate this year - I've spent the adultier-third of my lifespan in open protestation to our president and his baby-eating party, so you can understand if I am somewhat bewildered with McCain, and how I agree with some of his policies. We are presented with a candidate that is not a raging douchebag from the Republicans. Likewise, spend-o-crat side, we have Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, who both deviate from the Old Evil White Male stereotype significantly. What is going on, America? Like season 4 of Project Runway, there is no clear-cut villain. Which is partially why things are interesting to me. Like, I am happy no matter what happens.

So I suppose I can only really support whichever candidate proposes catapult the aforementioned Christopher Hitchens into the sea, perhaps to be followed by Tom Delillo or the Bizarro version of Gabriel Garcia Marquez (who I imagine is actually George Bush Jr.). I mean, since Ron Paul basically slid away with his tail between his legs, and since Mike Fucking Gravel has evaporated like the ethereal being he ran as, we have very few (openly) madmen with which to entrust the title of Chief Executive. Logically, we must then make them mad.

Their public nature will be the first stepping stone. They want our vote? They must do little things at first - provide sound bites, pose with the elderly or the frowny or the ugly. Barack Obama must perform a handstand to prove his presidential character, and Hillary Clinton must eat ten banana pies. McCain must enter the Chute of Shoes, and find ten matching pairs within five minutes. Little fokesy things! To prove how connected they are with the people. Soon things are stepped up a notch. Perhaps someone boxes a kangaroo, or even wanders through a maze of mirrors with several body doubles and wax duplicates. Eventually, they will wear clothing made of grape jell-o and write backwards, or perhaps unicycle on elephants. Really, it could be anything, because what I'm proposing here is not just delightful whimsy. I will vote for any candidate who wants my vote so badly that they sacrifice their dignity and sanity.

Is it a lot to ask for? Certainly. But this is hedonism week (for like, negative two days now?) and I am feeling haughty. And I tire of candidates who are willing to talk and debate and blah blah blah. Give us a show. America is the next Roman Empire, so why bother pretending that it isn't? Our decadence could burn so bright that it casts a shadow for centuries to come, instead of just burning guiltily behind closed doors.

BONUS CONTENT:
You may have been aware of your own suffering enough last Friday to notice a lack of Krazy Kwotes. I have heard benediction, and relief comes swiftly.

Obama! Spring Break! Whoo!

I really like Obama. Honestly and deeply like him. I like hearing him speak. I like his story, his policies, his platitudes. I like him in a way that is counter to my cynicism, that is objectively, very foolish. And I am not naive, I know that he is an American politician, which is to be a huckster and a liar and a snake-oil salesman. But in Obama, I am okay with the deceptions and compromises. I can live with them, because he is at the very least self-aware. He knows who's going to vote for him and he knows what they want to hear and how to say it, how to perform and present himself to them as the vehicle for their frustrated optimism and vestigial idealism. Unequivocally, the "youth vote" (as it were) is his major strength, the true devotees and zealous converts. The Baby Boomers and the Union Workers and the Frustrated Republicans are being swayed, seduced and shown the light, but slowly and with the passionate guidance of these college students. Anyone over the age of 17 and under the age of 30 is chomping at the bit to vote for the Obamanator. We're ready to go. Get us to a booth, and we know what to do.

Unfortunately, the most common criticism is also the fairest observation: Obama really doesn't have much to say. Not yet, anyway. He has some outlines. Some ideas. A clear and (to me) fairly comforting voting record. But Hilary's had her marching plan ready since the impeachment days. That is irrelevant, and I feel that he (or at least, his incredibly clever staff) understands that. That the youth vote would not be won with a PowerPoint presentation and a pragmatic attitude. For better or worse, this (perhaps more than any) is to be a race won by image.

This is fairly abhorrent, and I apologise for my fellow 20-somethings. But hear us out: We've got a lot on our minds. We've grown in dark times, many of us only just remember the milk and honey days of Clinton's presidency, and the rest suffer the pain of fallout. And yes, compared to these latter days of the Shrub, I do think Clinton's time in office has a comparative sylvan quality. That's neither here nor there, though. We've seen tragedy and bloodshed at an astonishing rate, defended by bloodless and cowardly people. We've seen photographic evidence of government-sanctioned torture. We're in a post-Nixon America. We were born suspicious and we were born cynical. We never had ideals to compromise. Remember, the last election. How many of you out there loved making the distinction: "I am voting against Bush, not for Kerry". C'mon, let's see those hands. I confess.

But Obama. He stands up so tall and speaks to clearly. He's so...well, he's so fucking presidential. I can understand why America misses Camelot still. It's not an accident that several members of JFK's family, including his daughter, have passed the torch to the present candidate. Obama is the president in an action film. He is a pretty picture, and please forgive us for being shallow. But that's all we need from our candidate. We're sick of reality, and Obama has promised we'll never see it. We've seen too much embarrassing human-ness in our leaders: aggressive idiocy of Bush2 and the sleaze of Clinton. Obama promises with each step of his campaign that he'll keep his skeletons, his perversions and his spelling mistakes out of the evening news. He'll never cry or freak out at a primary. No blue dresses. Don't worry kids, Obama's here and he's got it taken care of.

That's just what we wanted to hear.

Be Not Unhappy, Child of Bosnia

Hello, gentle readers. Have you heard about the war on bloggers? Take arms, gentle readers, and hoist the flag of our feisty fiefdom high - war approaches. Do we have a flag? Is our Latin emblazoned upon a saucy tabard? Do we have merchandise? Oh ho ho. Patience, my pets.

As you are so concerned with my health, it behooves me to inform you that I have resumed my strict exercise regimen, which basically consists of me throwing myself forward on a treadmill until my lungs clench up and I vomit. Not really, but, Rocky-like, I must force myself through the struggle of tiger eyes (in my case, remixes of the Still Alive song from Portal) or whatever to beat up a Russian. Fuck that, I'll just eat myself skinny. This plan makes total sense. MMM CELERY, THE DIET HELPER THAT SPRANG FROM THE BLOOD OF SWIFT KADMILOS.

Speaking of conflict (not so much of swift Kadmilos), have you heard any of the strange meta-debate going on over that photo of Barack Obama where he is apparently cosplaying as Fireflower Mario. It's not a debate about the debate that might be debated if the photo (linked to) were debatable. And all of this, mind you, is for the primaries - I begin to wish that I'd registered democrat back on that sunny day that I registered to vote, just so I'd say that I participated in this slapdash chaos. Also, since we're dishing about candidates, I would just like to say that I do not hate John McCain. He is a welcome change from the "Let's nominate the most vile cretin available" modus operandi of the republican party. While still a vile cretin, he is at least able to talk for ten minutes without making me want to punch him in the face. So. There's that.

Regardless of how the upcoming election goes, I will hereby commit only to this statement - I voted for the other person who would doubtlessly be doing a better job of being president. It is a brave stance to take, one that requires careful research and planning, of estimating how each candidate will perform if elected. You have to know their stances on the war in Iraq, the economy, health care, and what they are doing with our tarnished reputation, at home and abroad. And you have to be cynical - this is, perhaps, the worst part. While everyone else is participating at their rallies and having fun, I have to be skulking, jackal-like, on the very edge of their warm bonfires, ready to leap upon the winning party with my clucking tongue and furrowed brow. The other candidate would have done so much better. Our politics have gotten to the point where presidential preference has become an indicator of personal merit - any nincompoop who voted for Bush in either election must be properly apologetic, or risk being labeled a dangerous inebriate - and that as soon as any candidate actually becomes president, their greatest flaws are immediately seized upon and exaggerated. Kinda depressing. Thankfully there is beer. OR IS THERE? We stand at the precipice of a bold new future, one where we must face our failures without the aid of sweet sweet beer - planning ahead and making careful decisions are the only way that we can possibly hope to avoid regret.

I kind of want to punch myself in the face. Until next time, gentle readers - there will be a theme week! It will be terrible!