In defense of the new alleged doosh

Robert Gibbs is the new White House Press Secretary. No news in that statement. But I want to step forward and say that I think he's the smartest person to hold that job in quite a while. Dana Perino was a Barbie doll. Scott McClellan was always out of his proper depth. Ari Fleischer was the single most unwatchable prick in the history of the gig. Even the Clinton picks were mostly off the mark (although I always had a crush on Mike McCurry). Gibbs, however, seems like a guy tough as nails and able to talk on any subject as the situation merits. That's not to say that he's not taking some shots - The Daily Show was especially harsh this week and the impossible dooshiness of ABC's Jake Tapper veered into a undeserved tiff with the Gibber. The news networks are carrying his pressers live daily and it's like news crack for those with a pipe. Can you imagine being on point to answer questions in these anarchic days? Still, I see great things coming from the podium these days. Just needed to say it. Go Gibber.

For those that are unaware of our daily life, Sarah's in Africa. As a result, Maya's a social experiment that I can't quite yet gauge. We're doing loads of playdates/dinners with friends, and Maya starts another ballet class tomorrow morning. Distracting interactions rock. And we're using Skype to keep in touch across the continents. But with only the Pro Bowl scheduled as an utterly empty football snack this Sunday, we'll be doing lots of home improvement projects in the near term to fill the gap in proper parent interaction. Or maybe I'll just buy Maya a BB gun. Given how much the neighbor dogs (on BOTH sides) are yapping, I think it will be the best way to multi-task.

Hope your own press secretaries have plumped up briefing books today. Rock on.

Today's bonus rating - if "Mad Men" ain't on the A-List again this season, I'm totally voting for Goldwater

For a Friday, here's a few glancing blows.

Barack Obama isn't taking public financing. For those that find offense in this, consider the last time you filed your taxes and refused to donate the $3 to said public financing system. This issue is, thereby, less than moot.

Scott McClellan has been testifying this morning before the House Judiciary Committee about the Valerie Plame outing. Can't say I care, mainly because I've seen where this bread gets buttered from way back when. But the fact that he's out there has to piss off those loyal Bushies and that's worth something to the nation. So kudos, Scotty.

On Father's Day I caught a matinee - "The Happening". My rating - a pissy C-minus. Dumb concept, horrible marketing, just dumb dumb dumb crap that no one should feel obligated to see. Spoiler alert! There's no surprise ending. Consider yourself warned.

Hope your own weekend plans get you nowhere near a multiplex showing "The Love Guru" (I haven't seen it, but my rating is a D-minus). Rock on.

Up next - Colin Powell tells us all that the vial of anthrax was from Dubya's private "forgotten" stock from those wild days

Santa Barbara is so gorgeous that I'm even slated to go play golf this afternoon. For those keeping score at home, this will be my first official outing on the links since just before my wedding. So I'm due for a killer round. Define that however you'd like. Regardless, I'm looking forward to describing my efforts soon for y'all.

While we're loving the vacation atmosphere and catching up with friends and family, DC is warming its cockles over the burning phraseologies lit by Scott McClellan's new book. Like every other pundit and unemployed Bushie, I've got an uninformed opinion to offer. Here goes - SO? Dubya's reputation is set in stone. A soggy self-cleansing weepy like McClellan's won't change a single damn thing. If this changes one single uninformed opinion of this Administration's tenure, I'll eat a Chicago Cubs hat. But, if as I expect, no one will benefit from this aside from McClellan in terms of book sales, Tucker Carlson and Karl Rove must eat a Milwaukee Brewers hat. On camera. Wearing a diaper. So the challenge is out there. Do with it what you will.

As we always love to do on vacation while ample babysitting options abound for Maya, Sarah and I have seen a few movies. Two quick reviews. "Indiana Jones and the Overwrought Pseudo-mystical Bank of Crap Metaphors" - a despicable D rating. Worst movie of the summer. It pains me to say that because I fondly remember seeing the first Indy movie in Ann Arbor with my aunt during a junior high summer and falling in love with the spectacle of this form of event movie. George Lucas is obviously insane. Again. Harrison Ford looks amazing. But if I was asked to pay to see a two-hour pilates class, I fear it might have been more compelling than this mess. Avoid it, if possible. Secondly, as we await opening night for "Sex and the City" (yes, I bought advance tickets for Sarah and me) we played catch-up by seeing "Forgetting Sarah Marshall". My rating - a fun B-minus. Definite rental quality. Better yet, hit the dollar theatres that it's surely bound for in the next month. Jason Segal is sweet, Mila Kundis is surprisingly good for anyone that struggled through the weekly torture that was "That 70s Show", the Judd Apatow cast of hilarious misfits is on its game as always. Silly fun should always be this silly.

Hope your own tee times don't require anything more than a shirt and shoes in the bag today. Rock on.