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scream-of-consciousness; "If you're trying to change minds and influence people it's probably not a good idea to say that virtually all elected Democrats are liars, but what the hell."
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"If the number of Islamic terror attacks continues at the current rate, candlelight vigils will soon be the number-one cause of global warming. " |
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We seem to be slipping further and further down the rabbit hole...
Sent this to my standard e-mail addee list t'other day. Denny put the song (sans comments) up on his site where it got crickets.
When I was a teenager, I was stricken by Annette Funicello. Hopelessly infatuated, deeply in love, completely gaga. Apparently, so was Paul Anka, ‘cause he wrote a song for her called “Puppy Love” which topped the charts for quite some time.
Seeing people’s reactions to B.H. Obama, I’m reminded of that adolescent breakdown, that unjustifiable, hopeless, helpless, pathetic swooning over something I knew absolutely nothing about except it was nothing like anything I’d ever seen before.
The whole Obama phenomenon, fad, mass hysteria, whatever it is, has all the symptoms of puppy love. Ask people who say they intend to vote for him what his policies are, and they have no answers. Ask what he’s done, and they stammer and stare off into space. Ask what legislation he’s successfully promoted, and they begin to blither.
All they can come up with is “He’ll change things” or “I like the things he says” or “I donno, there’s just something neat about him.” Change for the sake of change. Much of America has bought into the façade of generalization as wisdom, rhetoric as reason, evasion as intellect, elocution as conviction, transition as progress, doubletalk as evidence.
Shavetail Senator Obama is a presentation, not a person; a composition, not a face; a difference, not a solution; a fantasy, not a fix. What’s happening is a crush, not an answer. Adolescent passion generally turns out to provide much more heat than light, and apparently that’s what half the American people are experiencing today.
So here’s the updated version of Paul Anka’s moonsick calferwauling for a girl who had about as much substance to offer as a tofu taco.
And they call it puppy love
Oh, I guess they just can’t see
How a young half-black apprentice
Can inspire someone like me.
Yes, they say “infatuation”
‘cause he’s just an empty suit
Tell them all, oh please just tell them
That such doubt does not compute.
I swoon each time I hear his voice,
His promises of change.
I know he’ll fix our government
And world-wide peace arrange.
So let’s vote for, vote for B H O,
He’s a novice, but he’s sweet.
He’ll stop all the wars forever,
And he speeds up my heartbeat.
Yes, I know he’s never governed,
Or accomplished anything.
Yet he has such great charisma
That it makes me want to sing.
He just makes me want to sing,
Even though it’s all lying,
He’s for change, and that’s something,
And white guilt he’s pardoning.
When Annette was in Baltimore for some concert at Memorial Stadium, I sent a telegram (by putting change into a pay phone so my parents wouldn't know) to the Lord Baltimore Hotel, as I remember, asking her for a date. Gave my phone number, but no reply. Bitch.
You might try her again. I think her dance card is open now.
Casca
Your story reminds me of something I recently heard.
What's the difference between a slut and a bitch?
A slut will f*** anyone. A bitch will f*** anyone but you.