What a Tripp... for Sarah and Bristol Palin, the Jets, and this blog

If this presidential election cycle wasn't long and strange enough, now we have this: Bristol Palin, daughter of Sarah, the governor of Alaska and erstwhile Republican vice-presidential candidate, has (finally) given birth to a baby boy. The baby's name? Tripp Easton Mitchell Johnston. (Not to be confused with his not much older baby uncle, Trig Paxson Van Palin.)

The timing is downright eerie as just yesterday afternoon I heard a rebroadcast of Terry Gross's interview with Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live on NPR, in which they discussed Sarah Palin's appearance on SNL and this clip in particular (which does not make mention of Bristol or her baby mama status):



It has also been a long, strange trip (though not to the playoffs) for Brett Favre and the Jets, who fired head coach Eric Mangini yesterday after losing four of their last five games and not making it into the playoffs this year, this despite (or because of?) Brett Favre, whose #4 Jets jersey was the best-seller at NFLShop.com this year. (For the record, I have now officially retired my Jets thong, at least until the 2009 season officially opens and the Jets win a game. But I'll keep wearing my Giants attire as long as their playoff/Super Bowl hopes remain alive!)

And it has been a long, strange trip for me and this blog, which made it onto Jon Swift's Best Blog Posts of 2008 list this week -- and onto the blogrolls of many other fine blogs (all of which I link to at right) over the course of the year. Indeed, in just 11 months I have gone from a trickle of visitors to, if not a tsunami, a rising tide or at least a babbling brook of loyal blog readers, for which I thank you.

Lastly, if you would be so kind and take a minute, I would love to know how you found this blog and where you live (State if in the US of A or Country if not) via a Comment. (FYI: Mom, this does not apply to you -- nor to the kind, patient folks who asked or begrudgingly agreed to be on my New Blogpost Alert email list.)

UPDATED 12/31/08: My mother-in-law just forwarded me this clip of "Uncle Jay Explains" Year End Wrap Up, which I thought worth posting here as it neatly sums up (in song!) the highlights of 2008.



And with that I wish you all a very happy, healthy, and prosperous New Year.

Santa brought me my "official" Obama-Biden t-shirt... so now we can properly celebrate Obamakkah!

(For the record, the "official" t-shirt looks suspiciously like some of those unofficial Obama-Biden t-shirts, though I'm guessing those shirts cost a whole lot less.)

Wow, Barack Obama must be really well connected to get Santa to deliver his t-shirts for him! (Or -- could it be?! -- maybe Barack literally gave me the shirt off his back, since you know these days he prefers to go topless.)

My teddy bear, Bearack Obearma, was so excited about finally getting our official Obama-Biden t-shirt, I let him model it.


He can bearly contain his excitement (like me)!

I hope you all got what you wanted for Christmas and/or Hanukkah this year.

Got something really nifty? Leave me a comment. (However, I will only publish comments rated G, PG, or PG-13 -- and will delete those I deem inappropriate.)

UPDATED 12/27/08 @ 9:19 AM: We finally were home to participate in the Festival of Light, or, as we now call it, Obamakkah, last night:

Holidays got you stressed? Here's a smashing idea to relieve some tension.

According to a Reuters' report, one entrepreneur in Japan is offering the stressed out a chance to vent by hurling crockery against a wall. (Why some Greek entrepreneur didn't think of this first I don't know.)



I think Amanda Peet (shown in the clip) has the right idea.

As does Barack Obama, who is looking mighty fine -- and stress-free -- as he and Michelle and the kids (and dozens of secret service people) enjoy a little R&R in Hawaii.

Mm mm. I can just feel the stress melting away.

And in case I don't blog again before Friday, I want to wish you all a stress-free-- and hopefully joyful -- ChrismaHanukKwanzaa.

Peace.

The mysteries of guy think

Considering the differences (and misunderstandings) between men and women, it's a wonder our species has managed to survive this long, isn't it? Indeed, I sometimes think that giving us humans the ability to communicate through spoken language was maybe not such a good thing after all (though I am curious to know if partners who use sign language experience the same difficulties/miscommunication issues). Like take last night.

The spouse and I don't go out much, and almost never to parties, so when the occasional party does crop up, I like to make a good impression, which typically means taking some extra time with my hair (though I have not owned a blow dryer in over 20 years), putting on a little makeup, and maybe wearing a sexy top or dress. And being a woman, I like to be acknowledged for making this extra bit of effort. (As my good friend T. used to say, though, "Fatta Chienza." You figure it out.)

So we arrive at the party (thrown by my mother and stepfather, so the deck was a bit stacked), an annual affair which we hadn't attended in a couple years, and I am immediately hugged, kissed, and praised by family and family friends. Yet does my spouse say a word about how nice and/or pretty I look (which really mainly serves to make him look good), even with some not-so-subtle nudging on my and others' parts? No.

Finally, on the way home, in the car, while rehashing the evening (which was very nice), I can take it no longer and ask him (no doubt in that somewhat whiny, needy, accusatory way we women have), "Don't you think I looked nice tonight?" (or words to that affect). And, continuing to stare straight ahead, he responds, "Yeah." As in, "Oh God, not this conversation again. Anything but that. Look, I love you, and the fact that we are still together after 18 years should tell you that." Which is all fine and good. For him.

Sensing I am looking for a bit more he adds, "I told you you looked good." To which I (of course, immediately) responded, "No you didn't. You told me I smelled good. That is not the same thing. That is perfume [technically Chloe eau de toilette]. Not me."

To which he then cast me a quick glance (in my father's old fleece coat, completely covered up, with a scarf half covering my head) and added, "you look good." As in "Okay, there I said it. Now would you please, please shut up and leave me alone?"

But, being a woman, I would not.

"I was going more for, 'Wow, honey! You looked really sexy tonight. I just wanted to tear that shirt right off you and make passionate love to you right there in the living room.'"

Trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to stifle his laughter while we waited for traffic to move on 96th Street and no doubt sensing the growing tension in the car he finally responded, "I'm going to the Doghouse, aren't I?" Then he added for good measure, "Well at least I didn't get you a gym membership!"



Men. Can't live with 'em. Can't shoot 'em. (Well, you can... but I prefer just hitting mine over the head with a cast-iron skillet. Just as effective and you probably won't go to jail.)

UPDATED 5:05 P.M. ON 12/22/08: I have removed the picture -- and will not be restoring it. While I appreciate the many kind comments, I liked things better when I was semi-anonymous -- and people argued over my views and not my looks.

Snow jobs in the news: from Las Vegas to Bernard Madoff

On Wednesday, December 17, over three-and-a-half inches of snow fell on Las Vegas (with up to six inches reported in nearby Henderson), covering the Strip and forcing schools to close and airlines to ground flights. It was the most snow Sin City had seen in nearly 30 years. But it was far from the only major snow job that made front-page news this week.

I am referring, of course, to Bernard Madoff (pronounced "MADE off" -- as in "made off with your money") -- you know, the guy who bilked his friends, charitable institutions, and supposedly sophisticated investors (aka "the smart money") out of some $50 billion in what the media is calling the biggest Ponzi scheme ever.

I think the media (including the blogosphere) has written plenty on Bernie Madoff (though do check out Paul Krugman's Op-Ed in today's New York Times titled "The Madoff Economy" to get the bigger picture, or snow job that is the investment industry) and all the folks he duped out of millions, many of whom (I am alluding here mainly to so-called financial advisors and hedge fund managers) should have known better or at least suspected something was up.

But what I haven't heard a whole lot about (with apologies to "The Sound of Music") is how do you solve a problem like Bernie Madoff?

How do you solve a problem like Bernie Madoff?
Why didn't you catch this clown and pin him down?
How do you find a word that means Bernie Madoff?
A sociopath! A con artist! A clown!

Many a thing you know you'd like to tell him
Many a thing he ought to understand
But how do you make him pay?
Restore all the funds you gave?
How do you keep a wave upon the sand?

Oh, how do you solve a problem like Bernie Madoff?
How do you force the SEC to make a stand?

So what can we do to discourage such behavior in the future?

Clearly, regulations and/or regulators didn't and don't work (in part because people tend to look the other way when they too are being enriched). So what is left?

Jail time? Eh. That costs the taxpayers and these white-collar jails sound pretty painless. Community service? Better, especially if it involves helping the people and charities and institutions these people hurt.

The even better solution? Call me old-fashioned (or Draconian) but what about before sentencing the worst offenders to a life of community service we tar and feather them on primetime TV then throw them in the stockades for a few hours, with extended coverage on C-SPAN? If that seems too harsh (though really, what is appropriate punishment for someone who knowingly bilked his friends and charities for $50 billion?), then something equally revealing and embarrassing. The thing is to set an example -- and strip these people of the one thing they seem to care about (besides money/power), their pride, or egos.

How would YOU prevent more Bernie Madoffs (and similar Ponzi schemes) and better regulate Wall Street? Leave me a comment and let me know.

UPDATED AT 2:40 P.M.: Well, apparently one guy was onto Madoff, as far back as 1999, but no one would listen to him. Probably because it's tough to take seriously a guy whose last name sounds just like a child's pool game. Still, that's only one guy -- and a competitor to Madoff's, not a regulator or a fund manager doing due diligence.

Meat the new smell of desire

Funny, but I never pictured the scent of seduction smelling like a Burger King Whopper. But what do I know? I get turned on by the smell of sauteed onions.

Introducing FLAME by BK, a new meat-scented body spray* that promises to inflame your desire. (I assumed for a flame-broiled Whopper but in actuality for something juicier, or so the website promises.)

A perfect gift for the man who has everything (except perhaps a job at Burger King), with FLAME your guy can now spray (marinate?) himself with meaty goodness whenever the mood strikes. And it's only $4 a bottle -- about the same price as a Whopper!

Warning: This body spray may not be appropriate for vegetarians -- but I hear dogs love it.

Ladies. Gentlemen. What are you waiting for? Come on baby, light that fire. FLAME on!

*If you click on one frivolous link today, this should be it. Go ahead. Click on it -- and experience the scent of seduction.

At least he doesn't drink from the toilet

Okay, occasionally Felix, who has some odd habits, does take a sip from the loo, but he much prefers his water straight from the faucet (even though I give him and Flora fresh water at least once a day in a clean, non-toilet bowl).


And yes, I do clean the faucets afterward... most of the time.