Passing Out

Everybody likes to kvetch about the bad drivers they encounter, no matter where they may live. (Too many of those OTHER people drive like idiots...and, have you noticed, they're everywhere!)

We all have our pet peeve. Mine is tailgaters. I wish them evil when they finally get off my ass and pass me.

But I digress.

I've noticed a syndrome that appears regularly in drivers from the male half of our species. Female drivers...not so much (but, in fairness, occasionally).

I call it the "getting passed by a chick in a Toyota syndrome," but any compact car will apply.

I was taught to drive by my father, who told me "if you're gonna go, then get your butt out there and go." Years later, a cop friend told me I could safely go five miles an hour over the speed limit - that's the range of error of their equipment or something. So I am not a - ahem - timid driver.

I've had a lot of opportunity to observe the behavior caused by this syndrome during my twice-daily, 30-minute commute into downtown and home again.

It happened again this morning. I'm tooling along at +5 mph with the rest of the late rush hour traffic, when I pass some dude who's been dawdling in the right-hand lane. Who immediately speeds up to pull ahead of me.

At this point, it will go one of two ways. Either he'll stay at his new speed - just ahead of me - or he'll doze off again after a few miles. I pass him again, he wakes up, behavior repeats.

I think the suddenly zippy guy might be the smarter of the two. Or maybe the other guy is just stoned.

Either way, my little car and I have obviously threatened their male ego. It's happened enough over the years that I believe it qualifies as a syndrome.

I also have a theory about the ratio of size of vehicle to size of genitalia. But I'll leave that for another day. (Though if you drive a Hummer, honey......)

Nothing New in Illinois

I've always wondered why my home state of Illinois hasn't been lumped with Louisiana and Texas when the on-screen bloviators talk about political corruption. Governor however-you-spell-and-pronounce-his name appears to be just another in a long line of pols caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Now the "Land of Lincoln" is serving as the prime national example of our too-often venal politics.

This is nothing new, boys and girls. There's been a whole series of Illinois governors sent off to do time, but my favorite story involves a former (and long-dead) Illinois secretary of state.

I still remember his name, even though it's been several decades since his posthumous fall from grace: Paul Powell.

Paul was an old fart who died in the arms of his mistress while in the throes of passion (what a way to go, though, huh?) Upon investigation, they found a shoebox in his closet stuffed with thousands and thousands of dollars.

Now that's Illinois politics.

If you'd like to walk down memory lane, the '60's era book Boss by Mike Royko is one of the best reads on Chicago politics and the late Mayor Richard J. (bash those hippies in the head) Daley.

Update: Stray Cat

Despite my internal wailing and gnashing of teeth, the stray cat that showed up at our door a few weeks ago is now becoming a permanent member of the household. To wit:

* The old cat is still pissed, but at least is no longer hiding under the sofa.

* The dog and the little stray have become playmates - the dog likes to give chase, and the new guy enjoys coming out from his various hiding places and attacking the oblivious Labrador.

* Mr. D and I are providing financial support to our local veterinarian. So far: flea treatment, eye treatment, a feline leukemia test (negative), and the piece de resistance: he got his nuts cut Thursday. (He hasn't seemed to mind...) Shots are coming down the road.

This is getting expensive. We're definitely paying for our combined soft-heartedness.

Though we've given him his own moniker, he probably thinks his name is "Shithead," as in "you little shithead, get off that counter." Or the table. Or whatever.

My poor husband woke up the other morning to: "No, kitty, no. NO. NO. NO! Bad kitty. Bad Bad BAD!"

I was innocently cleaning the kitchen at about 5:30 am when I noticed grey fluff all over the pantry. Had he torn up his mouse toy, I thought? But no. The fluff turned out to be feathers. Feathers everywhere. Upon investigation, I find the little shithead with a dead bird almost as big as he is. How delightful - a new toy!

I'm hoping he found the corpse in the woods and that he didn't kill it. (Optimistic, I know. Hunting is something cats do.) I also know that he's getting a collar with the noisiest bell I can find. Maybe a cowbell. That'll keep him from sneaking up on anything, the little shit.

And a great big 'thank you' to Mr. D for coming downstairs and dealing with the carcass in what, for him, was the middle of the night. What a guy.

Spitting Out the Kool-Aid

I was unknowingly understating myself a few weeks ago when I said I was really looking forward to Joe Miller's deposition in the mayor's case. Little did I know.

Now then, boys and girls: after listening to Bill Grady scooping the rest of KC media with his Miller interview, let's summarize what we know:

1. The mayor and his staff violated campaign ethics laws. (Ignorance is not a defense.)

2. The mayor's wife did in fact serve as staff - she set the mayor's schedule and directly influenced policy.

3. The mayor deliberately ordered staff to violate the state's Sunshine Law.

4. The mayor, instead of devoting himself to his full-time job, has been quietly working on our dime to build up his outside consulting business.

5. Gloria needs Lexapro. Or Prozac. Or valium. Something.

I met Joe Miller briefly early on in the mayor's administration. Seemed like an earnest young man who had definitely drunk the Mayor's Kool-Aid. After listening to his interview with Bill Grady, it's obvious the Kool-Aid has soured.

Miller has obviously been greatly disillusioned, and no wonder. What an irony - a former zealous journalist who - a month or so into the so-called Orange Revolution finds himself violating a principle he once held dear: Sunshine and freedom of information.

His publicly-stated reason for resigning was incomplete - privately he was appalled by the violations of state law and the behavior of the mayor's wife. Now he's gone public in a big way. So perhaps we should add the word "integrity" to the earlier descriptor "earnest." (Or maybe this is a convoluted way to promote his next book? God, how DID I become so cynical?)

Note to Chris Koster, incoming attorney-general: surely there's something actionable in all this? A recall takes too much and takes too long - can't you do something on our behalf?

Please make it stop...

The saga of our co-mayors has, for a long while, been highly entertaining in a macabre sort of way.

Now it's just embarrassing.

Kansas Citians are 'beige.' We're 'reserved.' Gloria = "Hillary and Michelle." The co-mayors are under attack by the powers that be because of Funk's new 'vision' for the City. (And that vision would be....what?)

Could you both just SHUT UP???

And how DARE you put yourself in the same category as Senator Clinton and Michelle Obama. Both those women have class, something obviously missing in our 'first lady.' (gag)

SIGH....

I hate Sundays. I think it's a carryover from my school days, when Sundays meant I finally had to buckle down and do my homework, the weekend was almost over and school was dead ahead. Now I'm a grownup (allegedly) and it still means homework (not enough time during the week to get all the crap done I need to) and work is now dead ahead.

Whatever happened to the three-day weekend technology was supposed to bring us - promised all those years ago? And where, by the way, is my jet-pack?

Okay, okay - this is the last day of a four-day weekend and I AM grateful for that. Thanksgiving was bright and sunny - we started off with brunch at a good friend's - but it went downhill from there. My addictive nature struck when we returned home and I spent the rest of that day and the two that followed psychologically chained to my computer, going obsessively back and forth between CNN and Twitter, following the minute-by-minute updates from Mumbai (Bombay for those of you who don't know your geography).

I finally 'get' Twitter - thought it was a giant waste of time and certainly didn't want anyone 'following' me - my life isn't that interesting, for one thing. For another, it's nobody's business but my own.

But as the dreadful news from Mumbai continued, Twitter was way ahead of the conventional news media and I got sucked into the running commentary from people at the several scenes of carnage and craziness. My news junkie gene was way too active...got the turkey in late, which meant Mr. D and I ate our Thanksgiving meal at 9:00 PM. (He was a little fussy that I'd disappeared into the computer....)

The effectiveness of social media was a sidebar story to Mumbai. CNN said:

With more than 6 million members worldwide, an estimated 80 messages, or
"tweets," were being sent to Twitter.com via SMS every five seconds, providing
eyewitness accounts and updates.
Many Twitter users also sent pleas for
blood donors to make their way to specific hospitals in Mumbai where doctors
were faced with low stocks and rising casualties.
Others sent information
about helplines and contact numbers for those who had friends and relatives
caught up in the attacks. Tweeters were also mobilized to help with transcribing
a list of the dead and injured from hospitals.

Interesting to watch social media come of age...

Meanwhile, Black Friday was really dark - one poor guy gets trampled to death by a shopping-mad mob at a Wal-Mart on Long Island while two guys in California shoot it out at a Toys-R-Us. WTF is up with that??? (I'll do my Christmas shopping on-line, thank you very much.)

And on the homefront, I've had a low-level war going on between the old cat and the new one. Introduced them on Friday (finally) and the old black cat HATES the little orange one. No catfights, thankfully, but lots of growling and hissing. (Yes, we've decided to keep the little stray...dammit. But he sure is CUTE.)

Add to that the gray skies, cold, and wet - and I think I'm ready to go back to work tomorrow.