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July 17, 2007

if a candidate announces he’s pulling out of the race and no one is there to hear it….

In a move that is sending shock waves throughout the GOP, Jim Gilmore this past weekend announced that he will be ending his bid for the Republican nomination for President thus dashing the hopes of those who had long been anticipating an epic Jim Gilmore-Chris Dodd match up in the general election.

What does this mean for the Republican field? “This just blows the race for ninth place wide open,” noted one political observer. “Before it was looking like Duncan Hunter had a lock, but this really upsets the apple cart.” 

Who among the remaining candidates battling to break out of the bottom of the pack and into the upper bottom of the pack will this benefit most?

“Jim Gilmore’s 437 supporters are up for grabs,” observed another GOP analyst, “it’s as simple as that, so I think we can expect a mad scramble from the Sam Brownback and Tom Tancredo camps to woo these voters now. And don’t forget, it’s a money race too. Don’t think for a second that these guys aren’t going to go after his donor base as well, and go after it hard.” 

“I sure wouldn’t want to be Jim Gilmore’s mother now.”  

Why is this so important? As one veteran political observer noted, “you know the old saying, when you’re that far down in the polls, you aren’t running for President, you’re running for Secretary of Veteran Affairs.” 

It was a crushing disappointment for those who saw such promise early in the Gilmore campaign. “There was this one event in Nashua,” a former Gilmore volunteer reminisced, “It got so big that the fire marshal made us move it out of the vestibule and into the living room.”

“I guess those are the times I’d like to remember.”

It is unclear what the former Virginia governor’s next aspiration for office will be but those who know him well point out that he relishes playing the role of the underdog and will not let the naysayers get in the way of his dreams.  Already rumors are swirling around his reported interest in becoming the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, making the Olympic hammer throw team or possibly joining the Spice Girls on their reunion tour as “Old Spice.”

Yo I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
really really wanna reform the tax code ha.

J.

July 17, 2007 at 05:03 PM in Current Affairs | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack

July 13, 2007

cleaning out my father’s basement part 2

Continued from Part 1, this week we take a look at some of the items I found while rummaging through the debris of my youth:

Back when I drew this it was a common example of boyhood exuberance, an innocent exercise in untamed imagination.

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Today, I’d be removed from the school grounds, given a prescription for Ritalin, and scheduled for six months of intensive counseling involving questions about whether or not anyone ever “touched me there.”

Ah, the innocence of youth, unsullied by the adult world’s conventions, such as the correct way to spell “gambling,” but not so unsullied as to be incapable of creating a rudimentary gaming apparatus.

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I can’t swear that actual wagering ever took place using this particular creation, however I do know that somewhere, IN MY PERMANENT RECORD there is a gambeling infraction of some sort from around the time I was in 7th grade.

Like bacon and eggs, Wallace and Gromit, and Wednesday mornings and a bottle of Pimm’s No. 1, nothing goes together quite like duffel bags and tennis balls.

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And what was actually in the box?

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Duffel bags and tennis balls, yo.

My brothers and I once built a fleet of backyard-faring space vessels out of Styrofoam coolers. This was one of mine. 

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They were equipped with the expected array of sensors, life support systems and propulsion. 

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And, of course, fuses. I know what you’re thinking, “no way is that Antares magnetic nebula (or possibly North America grey squirrel) going to blow out my life support systems” but when it does, you’re going to wish you had had the presence of mind to properly fuse your matter-antimatter reactor. 

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New York Times headline from April 13, 1981: SHUTTLE ROCKETS INTO ORBIT ON FIRST FLIGHT; SOME TILES FALL OFF, BUT NASA SEES NO DANGER 

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No. No they didn’t.

 

“This Property Protected by Peennsylvania’s VANDALISM Law” 

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Inspired irony or drunken stupor? I don’t remember how this came into my possession so let’s go with the latter for now. 

From an early-‘80s Pan Am brochure handed out to potential employees back when drinking on the job was not only tolerated but used as a recruitment tool. 

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Why did I think it was important to keep a copy of the "Spring Term Schedule of classes for 1981" for the past 26 years? 

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“Just in case,” I always say.

 

As far as I could determine, this was the only copy of Rolling Stone I chose to save. What sets this issue apart from others? What would have compelled a young college-age man to keep so random an issue? Was I that interested in the secrets of Cairo?  Was I that big of a Keith Moon fan? 

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I guess the reason why will have to remain a mystery, shrouded in time and darkened by the unfortunate frailty of human memory.

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This sign, hung out on my dorm room door long ago, is a hilarious demonstration of razor sharp wit, sly social commentary, and uncanny intuition into my audience demonstrating that I was just as funny back then as I am now.Dads_basement_018

What do you mean "that's the problem?"

J.

July 13, 2007 at 10:42 AM in Weekend Leisure | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack