Counting Down

We're nearly done with the year; there are three hours, thirty-seven minutes remaining as I type this. What have we done? Well, business was good ... we had a great time in England and Paris ... the children are growing like little (and not-so-little) weeds ... our circle of friends has expanded a bit more with the addition of a lovely lady working at one of our favorite stores who just happens to be from the same town as Mark ... elder daughter has decided to live with us and go to DCMS ... there are just so many things for which I'm thankful.

With all the horrible things going on around the world (Bhutto's assassination, the continued waste of American lives and treasure in Iraq, Cheney's thinly-veiled threats toward Iran, genocide in Darfur, hunger and disease and pestilence and famine and so many other horrible tragedies that go on in individual lives every day that never make the news, a dear friend moving to Alabama), I am thinking of how lucky I am.

I have the great good fortune to be married to the man of my dreams, to have three healthy, intelligent children who love and care deeply for others ("They're better than you deserve" is how my mother puts it, and I must admit that I can't argue), to have a job (two, really) that I truly love, to have the warmest, funniest, best friends a girl could ever hope to have, to live in what is unarguably one of the finest nations on the planet (and to have a two-term limit for the idiot who is resident at 1600 Pennsylvania, thank God) ... and for lack of other terms, to have ENOUGH. Any one of these things on its own would be cause for gratefulness on my part; having all of them is nearly overwhelming at times.

In what may or may not wind up being my parting thought of 2007, kindly allow me to share with you (or remind you of) the lyrics that Prince wrote once upon a time. Maybe he was feeling the same way then as I am now, maybe not. Any way you slice it, this sums it up for me at the moment.

Don't sleep 'til the sunrise, listen 2 the falling rain
Don't worry 'bout tomorrow, don't worry 'bout your pain
Don't cry unless you're happy, don't smile unless you're blue
Never let that lonely monster take control of U
Be glad that U r free
Free 2 change your mind
Free 2 go most anywhere, anytime
Be glad that U r free
There's many a man who's not
Be glad 4 what U had baby, what you've got
Be glad 4 what you've got
I know my heart is beating, my drummer tells me so
If U take your life 4 granted, your beating heart will go
So don't sleep until you're guilty, 'cuz sinners all r we
There's others doing far worse than us, so be glad that U r free
Be glad that U r free
Free 2 change your mind
Free 2 go most anywhere, anytime
Be glad that U r free
There's many a man who's not
Be glad 4 what U had baby, what you've got
Be glad 4 what you've got
Soldiers are a marching, they're writing brand new laws
Will we all fight together 4 the most important cause?
Will we all fight 4 the right 2 be free?
Free (Be glad that U r free)
Free 2 change my mind (Free 2 change your mind)
Free 2 go most anywhere, anytime (Free 2 go most anywhere,anytime)
I'm just glad, I'm just glad I'm free, yeah (Be glad that U r free)
There's many a man who's not (There's many a man who's not)
Glad 4 what I had baby, (Be glad 4 what U had and)
Glad 4 what I got, oh yeah (for what you've got)
Oh I'm just glad, I'm just glad I'm free,yeah (Be glad that U r free)
Free 2 change my mind (Free 2 change your mind)
Free 2 go most anywhere, anytime (Free 2 go most anywhere,anytime)
(Be glad that U r free)
(There's many a man who's not)
I'm so... (Be glad 4 what U had and for what you've got)

Best wishes to you and yours for peace, happiness, health, and prosperity in 2008!

Double The Fun!

Ah, Boxing Day ... and elder daughter's birthday! How could you not have a great time on a day like this (she asked, tongue firmly in cheek)?

K.C. decided a few years ago that it would be a good idea to fetch a good running buddy and go do fun girly things on her birthday rather than have a party at a time when lots of people are out of town. So ... each year she identifies which running buddy she'd like to hang with for the day, and Mumma (that would be me) sets it all up. This year she selected friend Jasmine (known to those who love her as Jazz), the elder daughter of Andrew, one of our English friends. The conspiracy began earlier this month when we were all at a holiday shindig hosted by some Aussie pals (and can I just say that they absolutely had the clue ... all the adults were on the ground floor of their three-story home, with the little girlies in their daughter's room on the next level, and the boys and the older kids at the top in the games/telly room ... we could say whatever we wanted in the kid-free zone without having to look around first or apologize or anything ... great concept!), the idea was hatched, and we were off on our way.

When K.C. asked if Jazz could be the birthday buddy this year, we immediately said yes, of course ... so then she asked if a sleepover could be part of it as well, and we immediately said yes, of course ... so then Kendall (having heard this bit of the chat) asked if Rose (Jazz's little sister) could come for a sleepover too, and we immediately said yes, of course ... so then Kieran (having heard the negotiations thus far and figuring, obviously, that his chances for a similar response were better than average) asked if Haze (Jazz's kid brother) could come and hang and stay as well, and we immediately said yes, of course. (It's one of those things where you're in a festive holiday-spirit sort of mood, and it's not till the next day or later that you realize what you've done and quickly begin stocking up on tranquilizers and alcoholic beverages, which are sure to be the only way you'll get through the night, and silently thank your stars that you haven't got an older son who'd want Jazz's older brother to come and crash as well.)

Boxing Day dawned (kind of) with a snow shower in progress. Undaunted, we set out for Andrew's house, armed with several MapQuest pages (one with general directions, three with the streets in the area in varying degrees of close-up); it turned out to be very straightforward and we found it without any to-do of any kind. Having fetched one participant, and with the promise of returning later for the other two, we set off.

First stop was the bank (clever Mumma had forgotten to stop there before getting on the road to fetch, one of the myriad of benefits to being a blonde ... d u h), and then to Barnes and Noble, where we enjoyed a tasty lunch at the cafe (with Starbucks, yay) and procured some reading material for later use. These basic human requirements met, we zipped over to the mall for the main event.

This is the day spa where we'd booked in for K.C. and Jazz to enjoy manicures, pedicures, and the delights of the shampoo/style (because let's face it, there's not a lot that feels better than having someone else wash your hair).

Being that nail-do items were the primary items on the order of business, the ladies were first detailed to the all-important selection of lacquers for their adornment. (I have to admit that I nixed the idea of any black, purple, or dark blue ... evil me, suppressing the natural urge to express one's teenaged self via goth and goth-esque decoration. Oh well.)

Varnishes well in hand (and soon to be on hand, ha ... yes, I know that was lame, but I *will* have my little joke, so just keep moving, nothing to see here), the pedicures began.

Next was time for the shampoo and style. (I didn't get any photos of the manicures or the initial bit of the hair part, since I was back in one of the massage rooms ... and yes, I know it's not my birthday, but I still claim a bit being as I gave birth after being 16 days overdue). Jazz has lovely hair that is naturally curly, but it looked sleek after the stylist was finished with her. (It's important to note that when we went back to her house to fetch her two younger siblings, her older brother asked what had happened to her hair ... to Jazz's credit, she didn't punch him!)

K.C.'s hair is very thick and straight, so of course she wanted it curled (which doesn't hold very long because of the weight of her hair). Isn't that how it always goes?

We shopped for a little while, thinking that K.C. could spend some of the gift cards that she got for Christmas (clever girl, she always wants gift cards because she knows I'll take her to the mall on the 26th and she can buy exactly what she wants - and twice as much of it), but it seemed that everybody else in town and their third cousin from Peoria were already in the stores that she liked, so we left and went to Target to procure fun things to eat for the evening and a birthday cake. (See notes on birthday cake below.)

After Target, we headed back to Jazz's house to fetch Rose and Haze (and met the eldest, Ash, who was quite pleasant). Then, once everyone had been secured in the Big Blue Truck, we went to Mazzio's to pick up pizza, and then back to our house to let the odyssey begin.

Jazz and K.C.

Haze and Kieran

Rose and Kendall

Right, so now about the cake. While we were at Target, the elder girls were way less than impressed with the selection of cakes available in the bakery cold-case. To be honest, the variety wasn't very big (there were exactly three half-sheets and two quarter-sheets) and the color themes were quite limited (two of the half-sheets and both of the quarter-sheets were done in red-and-green Christmas bits, and the other half-sheet was a Baby Einstein caterpillar). Therefore, they met with no resistance from me when they decided to bake the cake themselves, especially since Jazz promised they would tidy the kitchen after making it. All my unvoiced concerns turned out to be for naught (I LOVE it when that happens!) and the cake turned out to be both beautiful (in a rather interesting sort of way) and delicious. (The kitchen was spotless too ... I walked in to find Jazz on her knees scrubbing the floor!)

Jazz is rather a brilliant artist (as well as being a top-notch student, a great cook, and just a very wonderful all-around human being). Her birthday gift to K.C. was a picture that she'd painted herself, having been inspired by the "Particle Man" video by They Might Be Giants. The picture is of Particle Man, Triangle Man, Universe Man, and Person Man. (I'm told that one might find the music video on YouTube, should one be interested in viewing it for oneself.)

We sent Kendall and Rose to bed about 12:30 (yes, that's AM, but this is Christmas break, and it's not like they had anywhere to be the next day). Kieran and Haze sacked out somewhere around 1:00, and K.C. and Jazz tell me they last looked at the clock somewhere between 2:00 and 2:30 (it was after Jazz and I had made some sausage rolls so she'd know how). The next morning was nearly silent until 11:00 or thereabouts, when little cuties began rolling into the kitchen to have pizza for breakfast. We played all day, until around 4:00, when good-byes were said, and our guests and I piled back into the Big Blue Truck to take them home. It was really a wonderful time for everyone, and even Mark and I enjoyed it. I can honestly say that for a while I wondered what the hell I'd let my big mouth get me into, but as it happened, everything was most delightful. All of the children were well-behaved and well-mannered, everyone slept well, and to top it all off, the tranquilizers and alcohol went untouched. I haven't heard how Andrew spent an evening truly on his own, but we all had such a lovely time that Mark and I have no qualms about repeating the night again sometime soon!

Christmas Evening

This evening we went over to friends Sean and Mary's house. They'd lost power earlier in the day but it had been restored by the time we got there (with of course no clue as to why it had gone out in the first place ... thanks, OG&E ... I thought monopolies were illegal? Oh well), so the lights were bright and the fellowship was warm (although that would have been so even if the power hadn't come back on).

Mark's gift from Sean and Mary was a lovely big bottle of vodka, which he cracked open straightaway to enjoy (mine is a huge bottle of Chambord, which is really nice when mixed with a sweet white wine - think Riesling - and consumed very quickly, resulting in a total inability to do anything requiring sobriety in about half the time of normal drinks).

Here is Sean, always a gracious host, and especially festive today ... the sequins give him a really delightful Graham Norton look that is sure to be the envy of at least two nations once this gets posted ...

Mary is Sean's lovely wife (and the origin of the yummy sausage roll recipe). She had surgery on her hand last week, poor lamb, but is recuperating well in very stylish jammies!

This is Wilfried. He's not really cross-eyed, but he *is* French ... 'nuff said. (Je sais, je sais, ferme ta bouche! Quelle surprise ... quelle dommage! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha)
Elder daughter was counting the hours left until midnight and her birthday, but seemed to have a nice time too, especially since her boots made her taller than me.

Here are Emma, Kieran, and Kendall, who are not far apart in age and always enjoy hanging out together. (Notice the girls have matching smiles!)

This is Cole, who turned 3 last month. He is a man of few words, but he and Kieran had fun playing Don't Break The Ice and making (and destroying) different sorts of towers with the Jenga blocks.

This is Cole's mum, Jeannie, who works with Sean and Mary at the OMRF. She allegedly gives really good foot rubs!

After the visit, we drove around for a while looking at (the utter lack of) Christmas lights on houses on the way home. It was after 10:00, so maybe folks had them turned off, but wouldn't you think that Christmas would be THE DAY to have Christmas lights on?

As I finish writing this, I'm yawning my head off and (almost) regretting that last glass of wine. Goodnight ... hope your Christmas was wonderful!

Christmas (Un)Wrapping

The brats actually let us sleep till 8:00 this morning! They came bouncing in, the three of them, filled with smiles and shouts and giggles. Poor kids ... their mean parents weren't quite ready to wake up yet, so we made them pile in bed with us and watch TV for about half an hour before saying it was time to go see what had transpired overnight in the living room.

Within a half hour, chaos reigned.


Still no word on how all that's going to get tidied up, but no matter. It's Christmas!

Kymber (also known as K.C. to those of us who've known her all her life) got a JVC system with a wicked subwoofer (her mother's daughter *g*) through which she can play her iPod, a game for her Nintendo DS, a book and book-light, and gift cards to American Eagle, Aeropostale, Claire's, and Bath & Body Works.



Kieran got a gaming chair (you plug the Nintendo DS into it; there are speakers on either side of the headrest, and you can either set it straight on the floor and rock in it or attach a pedestal), a bunch of Star Wars figures, books on Star Wars and dinosaurs, some winter weather gear, and a new game for his Nintendo DS.

Kendall also got a gaming chair and a game for her Nintendo DS, plus a Barbie and a bunch of Barbie clothes, two fairy books, some cold-weather wear, and a toy veterinarian set with a cute little puppy-dog.

Of course, all three monsters scored big on the candy from Santa, who also brought them each a gift card from Gap ... guess he knows how they like to shop.

Mark got a nice-sized wad of cash (cleverly disguised as a deposit into his golf account for spending as he sees fit). Santa brought him some more cash (there's a rumor that the cash was actually supposed to be gift cards to Buffalo Wild Wings but due to licensing arrangements these can't be produced at the North Pole, and by the time he got to BWW they were all out of the cards) and some chocolate golf balls.

I got the pleasure of seeing smiles and hearing laughs from my husband and children, the promise of having to clean up the mess, and some lovely memories! In my stocking were a couple of books and some tasty lip gloss. Oh, and I got this ...My friend Mary gave me her recipe for sausage rolls, so I decided to try making them for breakfast. They came out really well and are (if I might say so myself) very tasty!

We're off to visit some friends shortly, where there will be more gifts and smiles and laughter and the lifting of beverages to toast the day.

I hope most sincerely that your Christmas is filled with warmth, light, laughter, and love. If you're missing a loved one because s/he is Over There, please know that we will raise a glass to them and send up our most fervent hopes for their safe return to you. If you're far away from your family, maybe today's the day to go make some new friends and create some traditions all your own. Most of all, though, here's wishing for peace on earth and goodwill to everyone.

Christmas hugs to you and yours from me and mine!

And I Thought "Pre" Meant "Before"

Monday afternoon I went to the Hallmark web site to pop an e-card off to some folks. I expected to see sale advertising (it is, after all, "that time of year"). I did *not* expect this, though ...

Oh, where do I begin?

Do "pre" and "after" cancel each other out, leaving only a Christmas Sale? What does George Carlin have to say about this? Is it something to include in future oxymoron lists? How is anybody advertising an after-Christmas sale before Christmas? Come on, everybody knows that we all take a 36-hour breather (from 6 p.m. on the 24th to 6 a.m. on the 26th) and then revisit the frenzy with one hand full of gift cards and the other holding bags with gift receipts for the god-awful sweater or pinafore or blouse or whatever that our favorite spinster aunts bestowed upon us. Since when does Christmas Eve count as a day to advertise what's next? I don't know about where you are, but our local rag (the Daily Disappointment or the Daily Joke-lahoman, depending on who's doing the telling) is crammed full of circulars on Christmas, all wishing us the happiest of holidays in teensy type in the upper left corner while "DON'T MISS THIS SALE! DOORBUSTER SPECIALS TILL 9 A.M. ONLY!" is shrieked at us in 32-point Helvetica. As one last snide aside ... I ventured out to the mall after seeing this, and after enquiring was informed that the Pre-After-Christmas Sale was only for online shoppers (not available in actual stores staffed by actual people who actually live in your same area code). Nothing purchased online today would ship today; nothing would arrive until Thursday at the earliest. How sad. Somebody's marketing department needs a bit of Zoloft!

Happy Xmas

(Thanks, John.)

So this is Xmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Xmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Xmas (war is over)
For weak and for strong (if you want it)
For rich and the poor ones (war is over)
The world is so wrong (if you want it)
And so happy Xmas (war is over)
For black and for white (if you want it)
For yellow and red ones (war is over)
Let's stop all the fight (now)
A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Xmas (war is over)
And what have we done (if you want it)
Another year over (war is over)
A new one just begun (if you want it)
And so happy Xmas (war is over)
We hope you have fun (if you want it)
The near and the dear one (war is over)
The old and the young (now)
A very Merry Xmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now
Happy Xmas

Relief.

UPDATE: It turns out that the little post the temporary crown was hanging on had broken into five pieces, which is what caused the abscess. Dear Dr. Lars dug them all out of my jaw, cleaned out the pit, and sutured it shut to heal (without once saying "yuck" or "gross" or excusing himself to have a big heave). He then proceeded to bond a cute little tooth-esque widget in so that there's not some big funky hole, and explained to me with all due gravity that I must ingest the antibiotic four times daily or risk not only not getting better, but actually getting worse. I may not drink from a straw for at least a week; I must cut way down on tobacco intake with an eye toward the Q-word (that's Q-U-I-T -- shudder); I must not bite into anything with my front teeth.

My face is nearly back to normal (except for the right side of my top lip, which seems a bit stupid still, but I'm sure it will pass) and the pain is almost always controllable with a lesser amount of Darvocet and some ibuprofen. I really feel much better now!

Thanks, Lars! : )

Toothache (and Major Ick Warning)

Warning.

Danger, Will Robinson.

There is some serious gross-out further down in this post.

I won't get upset if you choose to stop now, I promise.

One bright and shiny day when I was 10, I got into a bike race with one of the boys from down the street. (There were only four kids in the neighborhood ... my kid brother and me, and two brothers down the way.) I was actually winning, and turned my head to look over my left shoulder to see just how far behind he was. Unfortunately, my hands/arms moved in opposition, and I steered without looking bang into a curb. From there, I was catapulted ass-over-teakettle into the precious little rock garden out in front of the house three doors down from ours, where I landed face-first on some lovely big sharp-ish rocks, breaking off one of my "grown-up" teeth at the gumline. The pediatric dentist slapped some dental Bond-O kind of stuff on it and said, "That oughta hold it for a while."

Seventeen years later, I had a massive toothache. It seems that although whatever my parents paid that dentist was likely one of the best deals they ever got as far as I was concerned, the roots of the injured tooth had spent all this time gunking. The dentist I saw in my late 20s thought at first that it might be a tumor when she saw it on the panoramic X-ray, but no, it was just a really big abscess, cause for the first of many root canals on that tooth.

Flash forward to now. I've got a crown on that tooth, and it's been bugging me for the last couple of months. (Yeah, it's a temporary crown that's been there for three years and was supposed to be changed to a permanent one three months after the temporary was done, but when you have three children and eight companies and God knows how many clients plus household stuff like laundry and dishes and cooking and paying bills and such, you tend to kind of put yourself last most of the time. I kept meaning to get it fixed to the perm one, but never did. Here's my catalyst, though.)

This damn tooth has been hurting somewhat for at least three weeks. I've been able to keep everything on an even keel by ingesting copious amounts of Tylenol and Motrin, but yesterday was just more than I could take (or more than the meds could knock back, whichever). I made an appointment to see an after-hours-only dentist recommended to me by my dear friend Wendy The Title Goddess; I rang her on Tuesday afternoon but the first spot she had was Thursday evening. I lived through Wednesday, but only just.

Thursday morning I woke up to a really wild surprise. (PLEASE make sure you are seated and have put down all beverages.) It ain't pretty, and it ain't comfy. (Ick Warning!!) This is another massive abscess ... and it's broken through whatever little membrane there is between the roots of each tooth and escaped into the canine tooth region, which is how it got all up under my eye, over my top lip, and over my cheekbone to within about an inch of my ear. Worst of all, it makes me look old and tired and not very happy.

I called my friend Lars. Lars is a prosthodontist (a prosthodontist is a dentist who specializes in prosthodontics, the specialty of implant, esthetic and reconstructive dentistry ... cosmetic dentistry, implants and joint problems all fall under the field of prosthodontics). I 'splained to him like I've 'splained to you, and he bade me show up pronto-pup-quick, which I did. I got lovely nitrous oxide and four shots -- two to numb, one to numb and to kill infection, and one just to kill infection -- and Lars started carving. I already knew I was one of the weirdest people on the planet, and you guys know it too, but add in to your standing knowledge the fact that I LOVE ROOT CANALS and you'll see just how off I truly am. Lars is going to fix the whole thing over time (the "Rome wasn't built in a day" theory -- and he's not jerking me for cash, either ... today's enterprise only cost me very little, including the X-rays, and I was there for nigh on three hours), and I will (hopefully) have the smile I've never had but always wanted.

Lars has a son, Harrison, who was in Kendall's kindergarten class last year and is in Kieran's Cub Scout den this year. Lars is the committed grown-up that comes to the meetings with Harrison, so I know him pretty well from that. His wife Vicki is one of the most wonderful women I've ever had the pleasure to know (and privilege of calling friend); she was the class mom for Kendall's class last year, is a class mom again this year, and helped me host a baby shower in October for Mrs. Crain (Kendall and Harrison's kindergarten teacher, who had twins to add to her two other children). She is a hoot and a love and I adore her. The picture below is of Lars and Harrison at our first Cub Scout meeting; the picture after that is of Vicki (she's on the left; Rachel is on the right in orange, and she's another gloriously cool woman, but that's another story for another time).



So ... now I feel a little bit better. The swelling is still fairly pronounced, and I can still feel the mass of pus (and it moves around, which is beyond gross ... but if it moves up too close to my eye, it squishes tears out of the tear ducts, so I have to encourage it further south toward my nose ... eeeuuuwww factor 200), but the Darvocet is helping and I'm going to bed soon.

Much love to all of you ... sorry about the photos ... hopefully I'll have another picture to send you in a year or so with me sporting a brilliant, dazzling smile!

Paradoxical Juxtapositioning

You know how I feel about the fundamentalist evangelicals, right? I think that being moral is fine, but being moralistic is not. I think that having good judgment is great, but being judgmental is not. I think that the sheer smarmy quotient of "We're not perfect, we're just forgiven" is beyond thwap-worthy. Most of all, though, I honestly and truly believe that these folks are in for an extremely nasty shock when they finally get to meet Saint Peter and are told that they had it all wrong.

So then factor all of that (literally) holier-than-thou mess into the Presidential campaign, and see how certain kids are truly pandering to these folks. But, one might wonder to oneself as one slogs away at the campaign offices of one of these fine Republicans, how do we tell who amongst the voters is also amongst our base? Which of these masses might be one of our core consitutents, so to speak? Well, I'm glad you asked that ... your friendly intrepid blonde has just the guide to help. (Any of you cute kids who want to print this out and keep it in your wallet next to that stuff you have to render unto Caesar for the sake of handiness, feel free.)

With a tip of the hat to Daniel DiRito at The All Spin Zone!

The Top Ten Ways to Identify
An Evangelical Republican

10. They're opposed to sectarian conflict in Iraq but in favor of sectarian politics in the United States.

9. They're opposed to homosexuality and same-sex relationships but they'll vote for a presidential candidate who does drag and lived with two gay men if he can beat Hilary Clinton and her "typically" unfaithful heterosexual husband.

8. They wouldn't dare vote for a Clinton given Bill's disgraceful sexual antics in the White House but they're happy to support a candidate who used New York City funds to carry on an adulterous affair.

7. They criticize Democratic candidates for suggesting they would only nominate pro-choice judges to uphold the law of the land while they require their own candidates to pass religious litmus tests in conflict with the law of the land.

6. They're in favor of abstinence only sex education even though it leads to more unwed teen pregnancies and more parent sponsored abortions (call it the evangelical version of NIMBY - not in my back yard; NIMBU - not in my babygirl's uterus).

5. They're in favor of the separation of church and state if it involves opposing a congressional inquiry into the fundraising and spending habits of leading televangelists but opposed to the separation when it comes to selecting a presidential nominee.

4. They support candidates who endorse more funding for AIDS in Africa while embracing a candidate who favored quarantining AIDS patients in America as well as having Hollywood fund AIDS research instead of the government.

3. They tout Ronald Reagan as their political icon despite the fact that he was unable to acknowledge the toll of HIV on gays in America or even utter the word AIDS ... while they and their churches now run around talking about saving Africa from the ravages of HIV ... as long as it doesn't involve condoms.

2. They talk about their Christian values while they favor denying health care treatment to the children of illegal immigrants. Family values apparently stop at the water's edge (that would be the Rio Grande river).

1. They'll never make enough money to truly benefit from George Bush's tax cuts for the rich or condemn his doubling of the national debt but they're happy to call the Democratic candidates who support an increase in minimum wage and favor a national health care system unacceptable tax and spend liberals.

Bonus Qualifier: They abhor the fact that Jesus was tortured, mocked, and condemned to death without due process but they're damn sure in favor of waterboarding and disregarding the principle of habeas corpus while indefinitely imprisoning war-on-terror detainees.

So put that in your oxymoron pipe and smoke it (along with the tobaccos labeled "Compassionate Conservative" and "Moral Majority" and "Religious Right").

The Day The Sub-Prime Died

This is sooooo funny ... okay, maybe it isn't something *everyone* can understand, but it's not exactly the kind of thing limited to industry inside-insiders. I can post definitions for whatever somebody doesn't get, if you want, but for now, just sing this to the tune of Don McLean's "American Pie" ...

The Day the Sub-Prime Died

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that yield spread used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
All those mo-fos I could finance
And I could pay my bills off for a while

But then September made me shiver
With every good faith I'd deliver
Bad news on my e-mail
I just lost one more sale

I can't remember if I cried
When I saw the Fremont start to slide
But something touched me deep inside
The day the Sub-Prime died

So bye-bye, B\C money supply
Sent my package to four lenders
But they all asked me "Why?"
And those good old boys were on a crack induced high
Singin', "This'll be the day the loans die ...
This'll be the day the loans die."

Did you write some B\C loans?
Did you blow bucks on an iPhone?
Did that nut Cramer tell you so?
Do you believe in rate control?
Can FHA save your buyer's soul?
Why is underwriting today so damn slow?

Well, I know you'll have to cut those fees
And you're wondering who has moved your cheese
Bernanke's on the news
You can't afford the MBA dues

I was a semi-rich middle-aged broncin' buck
With a lead generator and a lot of pluck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the Sub-Prime died

So bye-bye, B\C money supply
Sent my package to four lenders
But they all asked me "Why?"
And those good old boys were on a crack induced high
Singin', "This'll be the day the loans die."