Paul April 4th, 2012
Although I’m a lapsed Catholic, every year on Good Friday I have some friends over to observe the holyday in some fashion. At last year’s gathering, I served Rusty Nails along with Hot Cross Buns from Wheatfield’s Bakery in Lawrence. Any suggestions for what I should offer my guests this year? WWJD? The “D” is for “Drink.”
Paul March 26th, 2012
Now that former Vice President Dick Cheney has had a successful heart transplant, I cannot help but wonder whether the organ donor was a Democrat, an American who voted for Change in the last election. Will the hugely disgruntled and mostly dyspeptic 71-year-old Cheney now have a sudden change of heart to become a kinder, gentler human being? Will he be sorry now for his position on torture, on weapons of mass destruction, on any liberal who dares to cross his path? In a heartbeat, can He Who Must Be Obeyed turn into He Who Will Support The President Of His Country?
Paul March 22nd, 2012
I am grateful for all the comforting words and sentiments which have been sent my way ever since I shared the sad news of Mykee’s death. While I am still trying to decide whether or not to get another keeshond to fill the void which Mykee left behind, yesterday I bought a young canary, to join the pair of lovebirds which I’ve had in the house for a long time.
Although the lovebirds nestle together affectionately, and I find eggs regularly in their cage as proof of their affection, they don’t really sing to each other; they mostly just squeak and squawk, so I’ve named them Gustav and Alma (after the Mahlers).
The young canary has adjusted well to his new environment. He seems happy. It’s only been one day, but already my house is filled with his sunny disposition, his thrilling trill and cheerful chatter. Maybe he’ll inspire Gustav and Alma to sing a different tune.
I have yet to name the young male canary. I’m thinking of Johann (after Bach), or maybe Papageno (after the character in Mozart’s The Magic Flute, my favorite opera). Any suggestions?
Paul March 10th, 2012
Thanks to the ubiquitous news and social media networks…
…we now know how, back in 1983, Mitt Romney tied his family dog Seamus (for shame!) to the roof of his car during a 12-hour car trip, and how the terrified dog defecated in fear on the roof but Romney simply hosed the dog down and kept on driving.
…we now know how a heathen dog gave Rick Santorum a different kind of baptism in 1990 by peeing on his lap, but how this did not faze the newly sanctified political candidate as he continued to campaign from door to door with the telltale stain on his groin.
…we now know about Rick Santorum’s dogmatic 2003 interview, in which he famously describes homosexuality as “man on dog.”
…we now also know, thanks to Dan Savage and Rachel Maddow, that whenever one Googles Rick Santorum, the phrase “Spreading Santorum” inevitably pops up on top of the list. And if one is brave enough to go there, one learns that “Spreading Santorum” is a noun which means “the frothy mixture of lube and….” (You’d have to look up the rest of the definition yourself, because personal hygiene prohibits me from going any further.)
All these cathartic canine stories come together on the cover of The New Yorker this week, which shows a cartoon rendering of Mitt Romney, driving happily toward an uncertain political future with a doghouse strapped to the roof of the car…and peering anxiously out of the doghouse is none other than…RICK SANTORUM! But, unfortunately, unlike Mitt’s family dog Seamus, Rick hasn’t pooped himself, at least not yet.
During World War II, “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition” was a patriotic song sang gleefully by Americans, when we all still believed that we were a nation sanctioned by God to kill the infidels. And now, given the continuing Republican antagonism toward gays in the military, coupled with the GOP’s enthusiasm for new wars in Iran and Syria, I think we should all be singing “Praise the Lord and Pass the Lubrication.”
Paul February 21st, 2012
As an Asian-American, I must be a terrible disappointment to my Caucasian friends. In school, unlike my abacus-wielding compatriots, I was no mathematical genius, counting myself lucky if I could add and subtract competently with the help of my fingers and toes. Later, when Bruce Lee seemed to be all the rage, my own fists were curled (not furiously but) limpidly around dusty library books. And now comes Jeremy Lin of the New York Knicks, the new wonderboy of the Wonder Bread set. I’ve been telling my friends proudly that Jeremy and I share the same surname in Chinese even though we spell it differently in English. The written character in Chinese looks like two trees standing together, of equal height and looking exactly alike (see the graphic design on my personal website). This is all very ironic because, in real life, I have always detested sports, and my only claim to any expertise in basketball is when I wake up in the morning with my pillow wet because I’ve been dribbling in my sleep. Oh, gosh. Is that Too Much Limformation?
Paul February 18th, 2012
The week-long media frenzy over the unexpected demise of Whitney Houston continues today with her funeral in Newark, NJ. While I am generally saddened by news of anyone’s untimely passing, this time, uncharacteristically, I seem to be completely unaffected. Buddy Holly, Ricky Nelson, Elvis Presley, Janis Joplin, John Lennon, Kurt Cobain, Michael Jackson. Perhaps I’m still in mourning for all the unfortunate celebrities who preceded Whitney Houston in death, or maybe I’ve just got a problem these days, at age 68, with all obituaries and memorial services.
Paul February 5th, 2012
In her New York Times column today, Maureen Dowd speculates on Callista’s silent adoration of her Newt: ”There’s always a chance, of course, that Callista is not staring so intently at Newt to make him feel more Napoleonlic. Maybe she just doesn’t want to let him out of her sight (because) when a man marries his mistress, he creates a job opening.”
Paul November 18th, 2011
Ostensibly because the end-of-the-year holidays starting with Thanksgiving are traditionally stressful times for families trying their best not to be quarrelsome or dysfunctional, Kansas Gov. Sam Brownback has issued a proclamation declaring Nov. 17-23 “A Week of Reconciliation.” He’s urging “all Kansans to contact and attempt to reconcile with anyone with whom they are estranged by harsh feelings or anger” because, “when past wrongs are admitted and reconciliation is sought, a stronger relationship can be forged for the future.”
This is all quite admirable, so I expect the good governor, who is one of the most unforgiving Republican anti-abortion advocates in the country, to reach out now to all his liberal freedom-loving Democrat pro-choice constituents in Kansas who would like to talk turkey with him if he can only take his mind off all those “buns in the oven.”
Paul October 12th, 2011
In downtown Lawrence yesterday, a woman dressed as a condom was promoting the virtues of having pets spayed or neutered. She was carrying a sign which said: “Condoms won’t work. Fix your cat!” This rendered me speechless, reducing me to near catatonia. I had no idea that feline lovers were gratifying themselves so furtively.
In related news, last night the mayor of the capital city of Topeka also repealed the city’s domestic abuse law, a move designed to ensure the city wouldn’t be stuck with the bill for prosecuting such cases. What’s a cat to do in Kansas?
Paul September 28th, 2011
Anita Perry, wife of Texas Gov. Rick Perry, is now telling the whole world that “the other night was not his best performance,” that “a 30-second rebuttal doesn’t give you much time,” and that “he is only going to get better.” While some people might think it is fine for a wife to endorse her husband’s performance in this manner, others might argue that privileged information like this should best be confined to the bedroom.
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