Flabbergasted

Nearly 60,000 people in my state primary elections yesterday voted for a longtime senator who happens to be under federal indictment. His trial will take place during the general election campaign. I really have to wonder: Why is that OK with people?

This guy has been caught up in the same net that has sent several state legislators packing on a rail, the public howling in indignation, even before they were convicted of anything.

Is it fear? Yes, the guy brings a lot of cash to the state, but really, who's to say our next senator won't be just as effective, or even more so. And rest assured, frightened sheeple, there will be a "next senator." Nobody lives forever. Like all of us, our senior senator will eventually succumb to time and then someone new will take his place.

Is the electorate taking the "innocent unless proven guilty" high road? I doubt it, as masses of human beings rarely seem to take the high road on anything. That said, certainly that facet of our justice system is an admirable one. Here's the thing, though: Being innocent and entitled to your liberty, prior to conviction, is one thing. Nobody is entitled to be an elected official. That happens with the consent of the people. That is a privilege. And I fail to see the wisdom in choosing to be represented by someone who, at the very least, has lost a great deal of credibility.

Best case scenario: He's acquitted and serves the remainder of his term with a cloud of doubt over his head.

Worst: He's elected. He's convicted. And the people gave away their right to choose someone to replace him. (Yes, there will always be the next election, but the power of incumbency, even after an appointment, is not to be dismissed.)

Share on Facebook

Whatever shall we do?

Overheard:

Woman 1: "If Parnell wins, who's going to be our light gov?"

Woman 2: "Maybe they can have Don Young."

Share on Facebook

O Canada!

So, how many of you out there will be moving to Canada if our wise electorate decides to send our esteemed--and under federal indictment--senior senator back to Washington. C'mon, don't be shy.

Share on Facebook

Old habits

I can't help myself. It's 7:55 p.m. The polls close in five. And I've already got the Division of Elections results page up in the other tab.

Share on Facebook

Noooooooo

I couldn't believe my ears this morning, at least until I looked out my office window and saw the perfect vee of geese flying overhead. I guess that shiver as I stepped outside today wasn't my imagination.

Share on Facebook

Need some assistance with that?

This from the Fail Blog:



Share on Facebook

I'm in a committed ...

“Sometimes you meet somebody and you have what is known as a ‘relationship,’ and things can go great and if it goes great then you have a great ‘relationship.' Sometimes it doesn’t go so great and I call that a ‘relationshit.’”
--Dane Cook

Share on Facebook

Doh! Doh! Doh!

Somebody call the design police. I had someone tell me that they decided they liked the trapped white space in a particular page design. *banging head against wall* My designer soul is shriveling, dying and suffering as it expires.

Share on Facebook

Big bang

Ever feel like you want to toss a grenade into life and just cross your fingers that the shrapnel will fall where it should? As of late, things have felt a bit ... directionless.

Work seems pretty meaningless, full of endless meetings and discussions and lists and plans about, well, nothing, really.

I am not exactly fighting with my significant other, but things are certainly strained, but really for no reason other than the world is a pain in the ass, circumstances are a bitch and we are taking it out on each other. We like each other, the world just doesn't seem to like us much lately. So again, misery over ... nothing.

The list of things I really ought to get completely is so large and undoable that I am unable to tackle even the smallest thing, hence NOTHING happens.

Hell, time to blow it all up. It can't get any worse than nothing.

Share on Facebook

Flipped out

It only takes four hours, once a year, along with dozens of pretzels with cheese, cases of soda, hundreds of meat patties and hordes of hot dogs to remind me why I got a college degree. That's right folks, it's alumni burger booth time. Now don't get me wrong, it's a blast, but by the end, my brain is mush and so are my feet. I can't fathom doing it 40 hours a week for $8 an hour.

Share on Facebook

Solitary hand-wringing meeting

It's midnight.
He's where the flooding is.
I am at home.
I am awake.
I hope he is sleeping and not on his 16th hour of running gravel to repair the flood damage.
I suspect the latter is true.
I hope he is being careful.

Share on Facebook

Awash

The world around me is a perfect metaphor for life this week. You see, the sky really has been falling here in my neck of the woods, so much so that the rivers are over their banks in many places and lapping dangerously close in others. My basement is flooding right now. Thanks to a little pump, it's not doing any damage. The tiny motor and several yards of black hose seems to bail fast enough to keep the waters at bay. I am one of the lucky ones. I have a friend whose vehicle is nearly submerged. The floodwaters are inches from the deck of her house on stilts.

A friend and I took off in my truck the other day to take a peek at the area rivers. We settled on a dike that pokes out into one of largest area rivers. And we watched the muddy water swirl angrily past, churning up the trees and sticks and other pieces of the world it had devoured on its breakneck journey downstream. This wasn't a clear, rushing rapid. It was ugly and savage, beautiful and frightening. It made my heart quicken as I watched.

There are times, when life makes one feel like a tree on one of those eroding riverbanks, struggling to hang on and avoid being swept away in the savage waters. There are times when all of those normal demands and disappointments that come in life somehow swell. Alone, they are just runoff rushing down the mountains. Get them together and they become a beast that rips you from what roots you, beats you silly and deposits you, bewildered and bruised, on some sandbar 500 miles away. And even once the flood subsides, it can sometimes be nigh impossible to feel rooted again.

Share on Facebook