In Your FACE, Mayor Bloomberg!

Hail, Mississippi! Long live the legislature! ** All hail the mighty ones in their power. Take a knee, friends, in honor of their infinite wisdom. You might as well. They have your best interests at heart. You can trust them.

Mayor Bloomberg of New York City, in his infinite folly, tried to pass a ban on super-plus-sized sodas, right? Never mind that the state overruled it. He got too big for his britches there.  It’s ironic when you think about it, considering he was trying to prevent New Yorkers from getting to big for theirs.

Anywho, Bloomberg wanted other states to sit up and take notice of the statement he was making. Mission accomplished, big boy! Mississippi sees you one giant-sized soft drink and will raise you an end to Home Rule.

Recently there was a nearly unanimous vote in both State House and Senate which would make it illegal for any municipality to require that restaurants post nutritional information on their menus. It’s all about consistency, even if that consistency is rather jiggly about the middle.

Rep. Greg Holloway, a democrat, was quoted as saying:

“We don’t want local municipalities experimenting with labeling of foods and any organic agenda. We want that authority to rest with the legislature.”

I could not agree more. Such experimentation is dangerous and could easily spiral out of control, leading to the improved health of entire towns. Where’s the equality in that? And don’t get me started on the organic agenda. You can have my BHA when you pry it out of my cold, dead, but surprisingly well-preserved fingers!

The legislature obviously loves their constituents and doesn’t want towns and counties to have to worry their pretty little heads about what they are eating. That responsibility lies with the big state government. They’ve got it all under control. Shhhh! Go back to sleep, little Mississippian. It will all be okay.

What are you waiting for, Governor Bryant? Sign that bad boy into law!  Virtute et armis ***

 

**Though considering that the lifespan of the average Mississippian tends to be shorter, it might not be that long .

*** state motto. Latin for “flabby arms”

It’s Debatable

Here’s my weekly confession. I didn’t watch the debate. Clearly because I am typing as the two candidates duke it out on the international stage. I know what you’re thinking. “Don’t you want to know where the parties stand on the issues?” I know where they stand. On opposite sides of a strip of duct tape that goes smack down the middle of the living room.

Democrats? Republicans? They’re just two parents in the middle of a nasty divorce, and you have to decide who you’re going to live with for the next four years. They’re so busy hating each other and trying to take the biggest piece of pie that they have forgotten that they love you at all. And you’re not sure you like them, either.

They scream at each other at the dinner table every night for spending too much money and hide their own receipts under the bed. Each blames the other for the drop in their property value, missing the truth, that the entire neighborhood hates them both because they scream at each other in the middle of the street and embarrass everyone. They play nice when it’s time for vacation then forget they ever agreed on anything the moment the minivan pulls back in the driveway. And they never take you anywhere fun.

And you secretly wish upon every star, wishbone, and eyelash that you don’t actually have to live with either of them. That maybe there’s an auntie you never heard of who will swoop in and offer you sanctuary. Or a fun uncle that will set firm but loving limits because they really do have your best interests at heart. Someone who will tuck you in at night and wish you sweet dreams. And you do dream, and sometimes those dreams even come true.

And all the while, your parents are calling you every night and begging you to please, please do the reasonable and grown up thing and choose them. That your life won’t be worth living if you don’t pick them. And you know then there’s no cool relative to save you, so you pick the one that seems least likely to drop their pants at the grocery store at the moment and hope they don’t quit taking their meds.

Nah. There’s no need to watch the debate. You’ll see them around the table at Thanksgiving. I’ll bring the mashed potatoes. You bring a new roll of duct tape. This mess is going to go on awhile.

Yeah, your pet eagle may have pooped on the living room drapes. And those were new, too.

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Stuff I Wonder About

Stuff I’m wondering about today. Who does the design team that created this sign really work for? I can’t imagine it’s Santorum.

The wingspan is more proportional to that of a vulture. Take it from me. I've spent the last 11 years at a zoo. Nothing says class act like the image of a scavenging carcass-picker. My apologies to condors everywhere if you are ever mistaken for a politician of ANY party.

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Is it a coincidence that from a distance, that “O” looks like the universal symbol for “For the love of God, don’t do it!  Bad idea!”  ***

All political leanings aside, when you see this...

Does your brain register this?

Is it just me? I wonder if they work for the other guys. Any other guys.

*** Also a bad idea: trekking across a field next to a busy highway in pajamas at dawn to get the picture for this shot. What can I say? I’m committed to bringing the story to the people. And all the signs close to my house were pulled up after voting closed last night.

Misery Loves Company. May I Pour You Some Tea?

I woke up in a bad mood this morning, and I thought you might like to join me. I’m not expecting you to drop your sunny outlook at a moment’s notice just so that I don’t feel all alone in my grouch-itude. That would be crazy.   Instead, I have provided a list of excellent reasons to be in a crummy mood. Simply choose one (or more) and embrace it like a brother. A brother who stole your baseball glove and left it at the park after practice so a neighborhood dog chewed it up.

Pollution: I had a professor once who told my class that whales produce far more pollution than people could ever hope to. This may or may not be the same professor who claimed that protein is the nutrient most lacking in American diets.

Yeah, okay.

But he had a PhD, so I would never dare to question him. This notion bothers me on more than one level. First of all, who are those whales to be dropping their McDonald’s cups and all over the bottom of the ocean? Second, are we going to let those plankton-eaters think they’ve got the jump on us? We can out-pollute them any day. Who’s with me?

Swine Flu/Bird Flu: It’s upsetting to think about these poor animals hacking and coughing and calling in sick. When a pig doesn’t show up for work, the price of bacon soars, which affects all of us. ALL OF US. Even worse are the ones who don’t call in and make everyone sick because they don’t want to take time off. Selfish pigs.

Republican Primary Debates: This year’s debates have been televised for the last couple of months, and they must stop. There is nothing worse than having good shows preempted by some lame program where every participant calls every other one a liar. But no one throws a chair or finds out who their real daddy is. Rather than a debate, they should televise a Republican Cage Match. I’d tune in for that. Until then, keep the debates off network television and in the alley where they belong! .

American Idol: This show will be the death of us all. Literally. Every time viewers text in to vote, they are giving the robots too much information on how we think and make important decisions. Before we know it, they will be making the decisions for us, thus commences the robot apocalypse.

Downton Abbey: It has taken far too many episodes for viewers to learn the dog’s name. The dog needs a better agent. He is an integral member of the cast, and I am sure that he can plot with the best of them. On the library rug. Or Thomas’s shoes (that’s where I’d do it).

Justin Timberlake: I just heard on the news that today is his birthday. He’s thirty-one. Do you really be happy in a world where Justin Timberlake’s birthday is considered news?

Now, do you take lemon or milk?

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If hanging out in Grouchland isn’t your thing, I understand. Pay a visit to Snobbery.  It’s Trashy Tuesday, which is guaranteed to lift the spirits. I’ll meet you there.

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photo credit: http://upload.wikimedia.org