"SpinDoctor, we need to replace the Foley immediately..."

It would be hard to imagine a ranker form of rank hypocrisy than that of Rep. Mark Foley (R-Fla.). Dude was a six-term GOP lapdog and chair of the House GOP Caucus (whatever that amounted to) on Missing and Exploited Children. Dude was Deputy Majority Whip for the GOP. Dude was cruising to re-election. And Dude had been widely looked to as the savior in the Florida Senate race to take the place of the laughably delicious Katherine Harris. But Dude liked having text-message sex (how lame is that...) with high school boys interning (rimshot!) as Congressional Pages. Maybe that's all. But because of my appreciation of the coffee and donut I just enjoyed, I won't bother describing the extent of the evidence already presented against Foley and just what he might have been doing otherwise. We'll all probably see enough of it in the weeks ahead to fill a season worth of AfterSchool Specials. So Foley ducked for cover and resigned smack dab on the DAY! the GOP Congressional re-election effort was supposed to change course substantially. They'd planned to run on Border security. On funding the military. On torturing the bloody stool out of terrorists. But certainly not on an alleged pedophile and member of the House Leadership's failed efforts to track down our exploited kids. Oh, and in case you think this whole Foley unsightly holy moly mess is just another outrage, need I remind you - this is about sex. Creepy, criminal, indefensible sex. Or the pursuit thereof. Past Pages are already coming out saying that they were specifically warned to stay as far afield from Foley as possible. Sure, sure - this might just be a blip on an already impossibly messy screen. Or, given a Party shift, so much more...

Hope your own moments of speculative outrage subside quickly beneath a flow of goshdarn fun this weekend. Rock on.

"I like to think of de-classifyin' as a way of using a filter to remove the filter. Heh, heh."

Ahrrrgh...it's been a while since a straight-up newsie post. Working on other things, but never losing touch with what matters. Such as being aghast at all the folks who've judged Bill Clinton's smackdown of Chris Wallace without actually taking the time to watch the interview. It will fully blow your mind, guaranteed. Bill's still the smartest guy anywhere near the Federal government - current or past tense. And the attacks on him thereafter just prove once again how much he's hated by the right-wing crowd. Compelling TV, nonetheless.

This whole National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) de-classification debate is as much fun as having a testicle rammed up where testicles don't usually chill. Dubya's gotta deal out more than 3 pages of 30. And it's gonna hurt. For everyone. But the Bushies will eventually dangle from this one. Just imagine one scenario from this document's description. Imagine that our intelligence services estimate that our Iraq operations over 3 years at a cost of well beyond $400 Billion and approaching 3000 American lives made us less safe. Created terrorists. Wasted our advantage. Lost us allies. And left us open to attack. Now just imagine that someone actually cared that this scenario was more than real - it was the currently agreed upon truth from the professionals. So they leak it before the election. And then raise the dubious ire of Dubya as a "political" move. Even though the Bushies' misappropriating the truth of this "War" for purely political purposes should be so, so much more appalling. Dubya tried to discredit this NIE as the view of the shite from way back in April. As if anything's been fixed since then. Face it, you 14,000 die-hard Dubya supporters living in your Y2K bunkers waiting for the other shoe to drop...you're horse is so far out of the barn there just ain't no gettin' it back.

I'll get through some more of the backlog in the next few days. All's well on this end - Maya's taken to the Lutherans like a fish to a new bicycle that's got a comfy banana seat. Hope your own logic somehow works today. Rock on.

Maya works on her stare-down skills.

Maya works on her stare-down skills.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Cheese sandwich and apple slices don't cost much. And they get you a look like this.

Cheese sandwich and apple slices don't cost much. And they get you a look like this.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya's early use of the potty is entirely ornamental.

Maya's early use of the potty is entirely ornamental.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya's always looking for a willing ball partner. Aunt Katie filled the role wonderfully in this case.

Maya's always looking for a willing ball partner. Aunt Katie filled the role wonderfully in this case.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya opts for Spring colors on a gloriously autumnal Seattle Sunday.

Maya opts for Spring colors on a gloriously autumnal Seattle Sunday.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"OK, class - today's sermon is sponsored by the letter 'B' and the number '6'..."

Big day on our end. Maya started daycare. Here in the United States. We'll just call that pleasant month of part-time drop-off daycare in Cuernavaca an indecipherable (for me) test-run. And the daycare center is run by a buncha Lutherans. In prison. Just joshing. Except about the Lutherans part. Kinda ironic to have spent the last half of my life running away from the glare of Lutherans to just now return their embrace. Oh, and just so you know, I was raised a Methodist. So going to the Lutherans now is probably something like showing up at Brett Favre's retirement party wearing a Vikings jersey.

The morning didn't start well - we got there later than intended and burst into the scrum right at snack time. If you want pressure, just imagine sitting around a foot-high table on six-inch-high chairs surrounded by the competition for the best toys when they've got a two apple slice and three cracker edge on you. Maya lost her game face quickly, while I felt the glaring eyes of circling daycare staffers assessing my overall, um, Lutheran-ishness. But we got our legs under us, and eventually I left Maya to the swim in that end of the pool for an hour. We expected this might be a shortened version of her hoped-for typical daycare morning, but I considered the prospect of a gaggle of Lutherans hugging the doubt out of Maya dubious at best. I tried to head off to a cafe and get some work done. In 59 minutes and change I stormed back through the gate, fearing the worst (translation: Maya with her first prison tattoo or a promise of marriage to that little unibrow monster, Mike, who I saw checking her out with absolutely no subtlety just before I left). Yet we can all rest easy - Maya was happy as a clam playing outside with her chums. Can't say that I've had many better moments than having her recognize me and begin to run over cheering "Da!" as I approached the outdoor scrum of toddlers and caregivers. I've since found no tats nor has Maya asked if I have a favorite Christian rock band. And with her down for a nap, I happily predict that our daycare updates will continue to unfold in the days and weeks ahead. Unless, of course, I get excommunicated or whatever Lutherans do when they figure out that you seemingly went to school with Beelzebub.

Can't even bring myself to fully comment on Dubya's speech last night. Horrid juxtaposing of unrelated disasters. The victims of 9/11 deserve so, so, so much better.

Speaking of disasters, the Green Bay Packers were shut out on Sunday, 26-0. It was the first shut out for the Pack since '91, before Favre had even moved North of the Mason-Dixon line (he was a rookie back-up QB in Atlanta that Season). And it came in their first game of this deeply ominous Season. At home. Against Da Bears. I hope Lombardi's cable service in Heaven was out.

Hope your snack time today comes with an inspiring prayer. Rock on.

Every once in a Blue Moon...

For all you music nerds out there, the new album from M. Ward is astonishingly good. Never heard of M. Ward? Hey, I'm kinda new to the party, too. But the song crafting is unique yet strangely familiar. As if this guy (M. Ward, the singer/guitarist, supported by a groovy cast of art school dweebs that can play the crap out of anything) somehow has actually been around forever. Try - just, TRY - to get the song "Magic Trick" out of your head after you just NEED to listen to it like 14 times. And "Rollercoaster" unwinds like a summer sunset. Buy this album, if you like arty farty crap that I'll put on a higher shelf nonetheless. My rating for the album "Post-War" - a gawddamn straight up A.

Maya and Sarah have been in San Diego for the last two days, doing medical conference stuff for Sarah and playtime with Nanna and Poppy for Maya. I've been working and seeing some old Seattle haunts that I adore. Like the Blue Moon Tavern where Sarah and I met. I went there Wednesday night and the bartender, Tom, is this old local 'round my age that I know from when he was a barista at Last Exit when it still was on Brooklyn Avenue and thereafter up on University Avenue. I've got a real knack for faces and usually the name to go with it, so I questioned Tom as he brought me a pint if he was indeed the bio I remembered. We caught up and then I realized that I had a picture of Maya in my wallet. I took it out and introduced Maya with the juicy morsel of truth that I met her mother at that first table up on the landing. Tom doubted me a bit, but then gave me my due. Affectionately. Plus a round of beers for the folks around me. Damn good moment at the Blue Moon. Both times. Wish y'all coulda been there.

Hope everyone's got moments aplenty this weekend. Rock on.

Maya wets up a willy for a random snoozing pooch at the Ballard Farmers' Market.

Maya wets up a willy for a random snoozing pooch at the Ballard Farmers' Market.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"Yea, it's my bike. Wha chu lookin' at?"

"Yea, it's my bike. Wha chu lookin' at?"
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Ah, that cherry crayon. Or in this case, the burnt orange crayon. Still, there's nothing like the first one out of the box...

Ah, that cherry crayon. Or in this case, the burnt orange crayon. Still, there's nothing like the first one out of the box...
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

...aside from the other 63.

...aside from the other 63.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"Alright Gravity - bring it on!"

"Alright Gravity - bring it on!"
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

And on Page 2 - WA GOP Senate candidate Mike McGavick had a half-eaten baby in the backseat when he ran that Stop sign and blew a point-one-seven...

Here's one for those of you out there that love spinning the spin doctors - the NYTimes plays up the fact that (gasp!) Karl Rove is political plutonium these days. The piece should lead those that are still interested to a changing national Congressional map. But the Bushies pray to their very-much-straight-and-oh-so-white Gawd that you don't read that far into things. Because if you really begin to get excited/enraged by the prospects of Dems this midterm regaining the House...well you'll get all uppity and that's just what the terrorists want. To be honest, I still see the GOP maintaining weakened-but-complete control through '08 when the Earth (or whatever remains of it) falls out from under them in historic terms. Whoever's in charge after the November election is screwed regardless. Be careful what you wish for, you Commies. Better that it be a GOP reduced-majority that gets bitchslapped by every single issue that comes up (and they will) through '08. Even if the Dems get elevated into the split control position, they're on the upswing. Yes, yes - their plans are nonexistent and everyone loves to pile on their losing streak yada yada yada. Seriously now - none of that shite matters. The Bushies and the GOP drove us into the ditch we're in and...wait for it...wait for it... well, Rove's the so-called Brain behind it all. Or Rove was. Maybe I'm just lapsing into a moment of hopeful reflection because of the ABSOLUTELY stunning weather GrungeCity's got goin' on this afternoon as I sit on one of the ABSOLUTELY stunning window seats at Espresso Vivace on Capitol Hill as the rest of the city is at the tangle that is Bumbershoot or U-Dub's Husky Football opener. But if you read anything beyond the tealeaves left in the manky teacup Ann Coulter and her ilk have been drinking from...sucks to be a Bushie these days. Especially if you're forced to read the ugly bits of your performance review in our Nation's indisputible paper of Record.

Hope your own momentary pronouncements don't come back to bite you in the ass. Rock on.