perfidy

I've decided that rather than worry about the current economic crisis, I'm going to enjoy it. Not because I enjoy seeing people suffer, but because I have great respect for the concept of chaos, and undoings of any sort intrigue me. I love giant snowstorms, for example, not because I like snow, but because nothing thrills me more than watching Ma Nature incapacitate Cleveland as if to serve a bitch-slap reminder that she is still in charge, godammit.

So, yes, chaos, and I keep looking up at CNN to watch the Dow drop lower and lower and lower. As I type this, it's thinking about dropping below 8,000. Fascinating. This makes me wonder. If the market, say, drops to zero, what happens? Will all the bespectacled brokers on the market floor snap entirely and turn on each other, feasting on each other's flesh and triumphantly waving human femurs in the air as the big electronic screens rain sparks on the bedlam below? That might be fun.

When we hit the zero mark, does that mean we just bag money entirely and go back to being agrarian? I've given this substantial thought, and I'm considering that the best investment any smart American could make right now is in the Sheep Industry. You know, for barter. I have a rather substantial backyard that I believe could accommodate a head of sheep, assuming that a "head" constitutes a number less than 50. Mapgirl has already agreed to help with shearing and wool processing. I think I'd also plant stuff so we could eat.

Ministers, I have your backs. At the culmination of the decline of the American infrastructure, you shall all be welcome here in Cleveland Heights. I'll feed you, keep you warm, and make sure the WiFi stays churning. You bring the booze and guns.

So, the economy is in the pits, and if I listen to the media, I will be lead to believe that at any second, the earth will split open and suck us all into a vortex of poverty and anarchy.

Here's the thing ...

My kneejerk reaction to the massive bailout is "Hell no! Screw those companies! Where's the help for the middle class?"

However ...

I realize that, as is the case of most kneejerk reactions, my feelings only scratch the surface of a much larger issue. I'm 32. My husband and I do not possess large 401Ks or IRAs whose continued existence depends on the performance of the markets. No one's taking away my retirement fund at the moment. My parents, however, are nervous, as they're sitting on quite a few pension/retirement bucks that they're worried could disintegrate in the wake of a spectacular economic implosion.

I'm aware that my parents' retirement could very well be contingent upon the success of a bailout. Yet, on the other hand, I despise that our economic livelihood is largely debt-driven. Some debt is inevitable, yes, but is it smart practice to provide a solution that simply enables business as usual?

Part of me wants to watch Wall Street burn and let our economy rebuild itself by forcing us all to become more fiscally responsible. Everyone gets screwed in the short-term, sure, but at the end of what will certainly be a long recession no matter how Congress decides to vote, would we find ourselves among a nation of people who only buy what they can afford without the help of extraneous credit and without the need for a subprime market? I'm not necessarily saying we should all start paying cash for huge purchases like homes and cars, but what about those who charge plasma TVs when their old tube set could easily suffice?

Talk to me, smart people! Educate me, people-who-understand-economics-better-than-I-do! What's the answer? Is there a right answer?

Upon receiving the following informative missive from the Cuyahoga Board of Elections, I was initially excited by its cover. "Instructions for New Optical Scan Voting System Inside," it promised, and I thought, "The BOE is going to SCAN MY RETINAS to figure out who I'm voting for." Then I considered the fact that any such equipment was probably manufactured by Diebold, and that meant that my eyeballs could be hacked by anyone with an iPod, some jewelry wire, and an old dog-eared copy of Electric Company magazine, and I instantly felt dubious.

But no, alas, there will be no Sci-Fi-Channelesque machine that says "Access Granted" in a soothing feminine robot voice. Instead, we here in the rustbelt will be employing the skills we mastered in 1982 while taking the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. Evidence these instructions:

So, apparently, I am to fill in the circle? When I cast my vote for George Washington? Isn't he that dude who hangs out on the stoop down the street and asks me for loosies every time I walk by on the way to the bodega? Huh. I didn't even know he was running for office.

This is shameless self-promotion, but it's also free self-promotion, so I'm putting it to good use.

I have a little shopping blog called SmartLassy, and since May, I've been using it to point people toward cool stuff that might appeal to goofy, geeky girls like me.

Recently, I decided to stop promoting other people's stuff and make an attempt at selling cool stuff directly from my site. My goal is to eventually sit atop a giant Scrooge McDuck pile of money, cackling with glee whilst drinking a pink libation from a martini glass. Ah, dreams.

Anyway, won't you please go check out the site? And if you're feeling generous, you could tell other people about it. That would be awful nice of you.

When John McCain refers to himself as having been a "foot soldier" during the Regan Revolution, does anyone else automatically picture him stomping around in a Stormtrooper uniform?

I had a dream last night that Hillary Clinton and George W. Bush were having a secret love affair, and for some reason, I was sharing a one-bedroom apartment (and comically-oversized bed) with the two of them. So, at some point, they want to get freaky, and I have to stomp out of the bedroom in a huff.

Next thing I know, I'm in the kitchen frying bacon (because what ELSE do you do when two of the nation's most formidable political superpowers are making the beast with two backs in your apartment?) and suddenly, Bill Clinton comes bursting in, all "WHERE ARE THEY?" and I gesture toward the bedroom with my spatula. As he's heading toward the scene of the crime, I ask him to please not hurt anyone or break anything. He turns to me and starts laughing his ass off.

"Sweetie, I ain't gonna hurt nobody," he says. "I just wanna see what the hay-ull this looks like."

And then he starts hitting on me.

I really need to stop watching so much CNN.

Given the obvious obsession with affection for all things zombie-related around here, I felt it my civic duty to let you know about one of the t-shirts currently available at woot.

Go now and purchase. Do your part to educate the masses about the oncoming bloody onslaught.

[wik] @Buckethead: What if Buckethead Jr. was wearing a t-shirt ABOUT Zombies? Does that mean he'd be allowed to say bad words?

Earlier this week, I came down with my annual November Pox, which means that I'm all cranky and snotty and spending a great deal of time curled up on the couch with two or more four-legged critters on top of me. This morning, desperate to not watch Maury or The View, I found an old episode of Walker: Texas Ranger and figured, what the hell, it might be good for giggles.

I was so right. And I have to share this with you.

So, Walker and his buddy are out on horseback on the Indian reservation ... y'know, like you do ... and they're suddenly confronted by a pack of angry white guys in pickup trucks. One of the bad guys asks Walker if he's a ranger. Walker nods affirmatively, and bad guy responds:

"Why don't y'all just sashay your ranger butts back to Texas? We got us an Injun to catch."

He actually said it like that. "Injun."

And then Chuck Norris roundhouse-kicked all of them in the face.

Most awesome thing I've seen all week.

[wik] I'm pretty sure this was the one and only time in the history of the English language that the words "sashay" and "Injun" have been used within one sentence of each other.

First post. Here I go!

As a general rule, I don't write much about politics. Lord knows I have my own political views. Mr. Kate, I'm sure, would be happy to tell you how much fun it is to listen to my bilious gibberish during any given presidential address. However, in everyday life, I prefer to avoid it. It's pointless. If I'm with a group of people who share my political affiliation, then the conversation just seems like verbal wankery. And there is nothing I deplore more than, say, listening to a couple of half-drunk douches engaged in a scintillating debate about the socio-political implications of Roe v. Wade. How bloody original. Hey, who wants to do shots?

However ...

My mother is in the habit of forwarding me electronic manifestos that appear to have been written by some Cletus sitting around in his underwear and tube socks while on break from 24-hour online border surveillance. The one she sent me today, however, got me all riled up because it essentially implied that the vast majority who voted Democrat in the 2000 presidential election are/were tenement-dwelling, welfare-abusing murderers, and that the Democratic party is systematically destroying democracy as we know it.

So, after replying-all to the e-mail (thereby involving a large portion of my extended family) and feeling very self-satisfied with my thoughtful, intelligent response, I started digging around online and eventually realized that the offending e-mail was the apparently-notorious "Fall of the Athenian Republic," which has its own debunker page on snopes.com.

Ahem. Foot, this is Mouth. Mouth, Foot.

Lesson learned. Just more evidence that I have no business whatsoever talking about politics. Perhaps you'd like to hear a story about my cats?