Where to Start, Where to Start...

Well, we made it back home... eventually. No really big delays this time around, but it sure as hell felt like it.

And still no tripod.

I missed dinner Friday night, but was at least able to see the girls before bedtime. It would have been nice to have really caught up on sleep, but Saturday morning was going to be the start of a very busy day. See, ever since we moved into the new house, we’ve been hosts to the annual Superbowl Party for Pam’s circle of college friends (and their ever-expanding families). Which is fine — we’ve got both a good central location and enough space — but it means we’ve got to get the house into shape for guests.

So pretty much the entire weekend was spent cleaning. Well, that and trying to get a handle on the legalities of a nightmare situation my mother-in-law’s going through with the chronic harassment by her criminally inept shrew of a principal, who’s now resorted to falsifying documentation and eliciting slanderous (and in one case libelous) accusations from misinformed parents. Or so I’ve heard — you understand that’s just my personal assessment of the situation...

Can you tell I’m just a bit angry?

The party itself went very well, though. Being the co-host, I didn’t actually get to watch too much of the game (no, I didn’t see the whole Janet Jackson striptease, but anyone who believes it was “unintentional” redefines “gullible”), let alone all the ads. But even without having seen them all, I’ll go ahead and say my favorite was the one featuring my old compatriot Patton Oswalt as the overheated bagpiper. I recorded the whole event (along with Survivor: All-Stars), so I’ll review all the other commercial offerings later.

I will say that it was nice to wake up this morning to read about little George’s “never admit error” backpedaling. No matter what, gotta keep the lie alive! And make damn sure that nobody can find out the truth until after the election. Never mind that this is exactly the information people need to make an informed decision.

I saw Richard Perle on The Daily Show last week, and while I disagree with his objectives wholeheartedly, at least he’s got the balls to come right out and tell you what his motives are, and the real reason we went to war. Unlike the little weasel in the Oval Office.

I can only dream of the day when Bush is languishing in a prison cell. But in the meantime, I’ll happily do anything I can to hasten his arrival.


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