WAKE ME WHEN IT STARTS ALL OVER AGAIN

They say it ain't over until the fat lady sings.

But then a fat lady has never run for President of the United States of Amer'ca.  Probably just as well, because the campaign for the top job of the You Ess of Eh is one that really never ends.

I mean, it does.  Sorta.

The reality is the moment the new and/or current Prez is voted in the next campaign starts.  It's a never ending cycle.  American voters don't get election hangovers.

In order for one to appreciate a good hangover the drinking has to stop.

Don't believe me?

Head over to one of the reputable American news places.  Or even Fox News.  There's bound to be some write-up on who might be slinging it in the fall of 2016.

Running for President is one of America's favorite sports.  Not as popular as football, baseball or basketball.  But it is higher on the list than hockey, lacrosse and synchronized swimming, which really shouldn't be a sport, but who am I to argue with a bunch of women in far better physical shape than me.

And that sport begins again right... about... now!

Speaking of women in far better physical shape than me, what of Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann?  Do either one of these brainiacs throw their heels in the ring?  For that matter, can either one of these Tea Party Brainiac Maniacs spell ring?

And on the guy side, is it fair to say that Paul Ryan is The Repub Man in '16?  Or do they search for Mitt V2 somewhere down Moderate Lane?

It's probably a given that Joe Biden will be everybody's favorite liberal in 4 years.  I mean, how often does a two-term Veep not get the go ahead?

Oh, the strategy...

And we're about to get four more years of this kind of talk.

Chess it ain't.  But baseball season is over and the hockey players are still locked out so I guess I'll have to make do.

Somebody pass me some popcorn.

Stay tuned...

WHAT'S IN A PRESIDENTIAL NAME?

What?

Did I actually go away for a whole year?  That's like a whole 364 days longer than the time between American Presidential campaigns.  But more on that another day.

Today, to celebrate the fact that I'm not dead (and, also, to celebrate the end of another long winded tussle between two phonies in nice suits), I am going to actually write something.   And that something is, how did we end up with an election campaign with two guys with really goofy names?

What happened to the good old days when Presidential aspirants were named John, Richard, Ronald, Walter... you get the idea.  Hell, even Jimmy was okay for a guy who wanted to live in a big, white house.

But Barack? And Mitt?

Barack I can sort of understand -- cultural and all that.  When I was a little kid I had trouble wrapping my head around the fact that a kid in my class was called Inderjeet -- until someone pointed out that he came from far, far away.

Cool, I thought -- one of my classmates is from Tatooine.

But it did explain the name. And that was when I learned that different cultures use the alphabet differently.

But Mitt?  Who the hell names their kid Mitt?  Is it short for Mitten?  And if it is, how the hell did a guy named Mitten end up as head honcho of a political party probably best known for its intolerance?  You have to figure one of the guys named John, Jim or Bob must have given it to him

But really, Mitt... Sheesh

I will give the Romney dude one concession over the other guy -- at least his name sounds like something.  I mean, it's a Mitt -- it keeps you warm and he certainly must be a handy guy to have around

But America didn't think so.  They went for the guy whose name sounds like the sound made while clearing one's throat.

And they did it twice.

Guess a clearing of the throat is good for the soul.

Stay tuned...

FOOT, MEET BRAIN -- BRAIN, THIS IS FOOT

Halloween is scary.

Sure, there are the usual collection of ghosts, goblins, witches, Harry Potters, Stormtroopers, Screams and whatever the hell those weres.

But the real scare of Halloween is behind the wheel of a car. It's the dumbass with the lead foot who's oblivious to the fact that there are little kids all over the place dashing across streets just waiting to become paste on the asphalt.

Should the kids be more careful? Damn straight they should.

But they're kids, whose sense of vulnerability hasn't yet developed.

The speed freak asswipe behind the wheel, on the other hand, should know better.

You want to be a dangerous driver -- fine. Just do it away from the general population, and for goodness sake, avoid residential streets every October 31st.

Do everyone a favour -- take your $5000 dollar rims and your overstrained subwoofer and go find a nice telephone pole in an industrial are to wrap yourself around.

Stay tuned...

BRAS, PANTIES, GARTERS AND BRAIN CELLS

I'm suddenly reminded of an old Sesame Street bit -- one of these things is not like the others...

Ahem.

The Lingerie Football League might be the dumbest thing ever created. In an era of pre-fab autotuned "music," YouTube idiots (oh look -- another skateboard FAIL), sayings like "FAIL" and all things Kardashian, that's saying a lot.

But it's certainly not because of the girls.

While I think the ladies are underpaid (as in, not paid at all) and exploited by the league (lingerie as a uniform -- seriously?), I can't fault them for trying to raise their profiles. It's a dog eat dog world, after all.

It's just the concept.

I'm all for women's professional sports. I would like nothing more than to see leagues like the Women's National Basketball Association and Women's Professional Soccer drawing huge crowds. These gals have serious game.

That said, I would like the Lingerie Football League to die a miserable death.

In its place I would love to see a league where the women play a brand of football that is about the game and the players. There's nothing wrong with sex appeal (raise your hands, ladies, if you watch the National Football League for the derrieres), but it shouldn't be any sort of focus.

And I know that women's leagues are challenged because of attendance issues. It's a reality that sucks.

But I would rather see no women's football at all than to see these poor gals bashing each other silly in the name of sex while some fat cat dude rolls in the dough at their expense.

The whole thing is just a sad waste of one's brain cells.

Stay tuned...

COMINGS AND GOINGS

Yeah, yeah... The guy disappears for over a year, says he's coming back and then disappears for a coupla more months.

Such is life.

The truth of it all is I work nights. When I came back to this thing I was in the middle of a summertime day shift that I was hoping would be permanent. Unfortunately, 'twas not the case. I should have called it 'death' or 'taxes.'

Still, there's life in this thing yet. There's still much wrong with the world, and bitching about it here keeps me from chewing off the ears of those that don't want to listen to me let rip (see Rantking comma Mrs.).

But today I shan't complain, cuz the King of Kings is a goner. I don't usually celebrate over bloodied corpses but I'm going to make an exception for the Gha-Daffy one.

The man, like many a dick tater before him, hoarded his country's assests at the expense of the well-being of his own people. So when they dragged his cowardly ass (out of a drainage pipe, of all things) on Thursday and injected hot lead into his misaligned brain cells, I was quite happy.

Happy for the people of Libya who have suffered so.

Happy for the relatives of Pan Am 103.

Happy for the human race, in general.

So on that note, let me say that I'm not going anywhere, other than my other pop culture related thing that's currently under construction (more later). But I'm sure glad Ghadafi is going, and where he's going he better bring himself some A/C -- it gets mighty warm down there.

Stay tuned...