Christina . . .

. . . and all you other urban yodelers*

Please, please, please stay away from our national anthem. I have no problem with you fumbling the words. Everyone makes mistakes. It wasn't what you sang - it was how you sang it. The anthem has been around for two hundred years, and does not need your interpretation.

The anthem belongs to us, not you, and you are not free to bend it into a science project for your vocal exercises.

If you receive an invitation to sing (and I use the word loosely) the anthem at another major event, decline.

I beg you.

Decline.

And you event organizers, listen up. Did you learn nothing from Roseanne Barr?

*Urban yodeling: When a singer draws out or oscillates notes excessively (seems to have been started by the ilks of Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston and Christina Aguilera) Especially when covering music written by others. Can be heard in karaoke bars, and is generally used to mask a lack of singing talent.

Well meaning . . .

. . . but clueless
Today, on our weekly trip to the Navy Exchange/Commissary, Mrs. B decided to have her bangs trimmed.

The shetland sheepherder vibe wasn't working for her.

Rather than sit on the institutional rock-hard chairs in the shop and listen to discussions of womens' hairstyles, I wandered out to our Escape to read a new James Patterson book.

Did I mention that Mrs. B walks with a cane and has a handicap parking placard? She does, due to several back surgeries that were not completely successful. Our car was parked in one of the 12 handicap-marked parking spots in front of the NEX. Ten of them were empty.

I was engrossed in the story, windows down, 62F breeze blowing in, until I heard an "EXCUSE ME!"

I looked up, and the following conversation ensued:

Me: I beg your pardon?
Him: Are you pregnant?
Me (instantly understanding where he was going) : Excuse me?
Him: I said "Are you pregnant?" The sign says "Parking for Mothers-to-be and Handicapped."
Me: I can read.
Him: Well?
Me (calmly, with no trace of anger in my voice): I appreciate you asking, because too many people hijack handicap parking spaces. In fact, my wife has a permit, and she is inside getting her hair cut. I suggest, though, that the next time you ask, you rephrase your question, and you will come off as a concerned citizen rather than a sarcastic jerk. Are we good now?

Twat . . .

There is a reason folks my age become grumpy. Our lifetime ration of shite has been filled, we require no more, and we will reject it with extreme prejudice.

That was the day . . .

. . . the music died

February 3, 1959

Mason City, Iowa

No we won't . . .

. . . yes, we will

In 2008, then-senator Barry O was opposed to a health care reform that required individuals to purchase insurance, and said this:

"If a mandate was the solution, we can try that to solve homelessness by mandating everybody to buy a house."

The man has never met a position he will not change.

Chicago politics writ large.

I have seen two . . .

. . . monumental tragedies as they happened.

9/11, and this.

The first was monsters believing they would reach heaven. May their souls rot in hell.

The second was brave men and women on their way to the heavens. May their souls rest in peace.

Another good way . . .

. . . to thin out the Democrat party

Tuesday night after the speech, Obama adviser David Plouffe said to NBC News that the president would not let the moment after the Arizona shootings pass without pushing for some change in the law, to prevent another similar incident. “It’s a very important issue, and one I know there’s going to be debate about on the Hill.”

"Never let a good crisis go to waste."- Rahm Emanuel, Barry buddy and non-resident of Chicago

The White House said that to avoid being accused of capitalizing on the Arizona shootings for political gain, Obama will address the gun issue in a separate speech, likely early next month.

Rephrased: "Let's capitalize on it, but avoid being accused of it."

Do it. The last time your party tried, they had their collective arses handed to them.

Suggestion: when you're deep in a hole, stop digging.

It's that time of year . . .

. . . buy some cookies from this girl

Or, maybe her daughter.