Welcome, yet again, to The Suck

Six years. Six long, horribly depressing years of Dubya's misadventures since the attacks of 9/11. How are we as a Nation celebrating it? By largely ignoring the compelling hearing of General Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. How surreal. Osama Bin Laden is being reduced to a footnote by the dwindling neoconpoops while Petraeus tries to make 32 dead American soldiers since the start of September sound like progress. I see where this whole "report" charade is headed, as do most Americans. We ain't going nowhere. Our troops aren't coming home. The daily reports of death and maiming will be forced further and further out of the spotlight. The largely forgettable movie "Jarhead" introduced to the lexicon the unwieldy cliche` "Welcome to The Suck." Well, each passing day of this quagmire makes me rethink the wisdom of that soldier's prescient phrasing. We, my fellow citizens, appear to be stuck in this version of The Suck for some time to come. Now that REALLY sucks.

To all those that have lost in this era of American shame, I send my heartfelt regrets. For those that think victory is at hand, I pull back the civility and say that I fear you. Not because I'm afraid of you. Just that I don't understand how much loss and shame you will need to satisfy the bloodlust that seems to have arisen from you ever since that terrible day a mere six years ago. Hope for the future. Rock on.

Maya did her best from a distance while Poppy horked up an extinguishing loogie

Maya did her best from a distance while Poppy horked up an extinguishing loogie.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

While Nanna and Poppy are in town to help organize our new digs, we were able to get out for an evening to celebrate Poppy's birthday at Vios on Capitol Hill (a fave restaurant of ours). Notice the waning reminders of Maya's head plant in the form of her nose scabs. All are well. Hope y'all can say the same. Rock on.

Freewheeling ain't always so guiltfree

After a few days meant to absorb the trauma of a Maya incident of note, I'm finally ready to dump my story on the entire World. I'll be brief. Maybe. But honest. Unquestionably. For those that check in for Maya updates, this one's for you.

We've got a new house that we adore already. Maya's hit the ground running at full speed, which in this was part of the foreshadowed problem. She adores the backyard/back deck/sandbox, and sleeps like a drunken hippie in her new room. 'Nuff said 'bout that. But we're also in that crazy mode of organizing that requires certain moments of poor parenting. Cough. As in Wednesday afternoon when I was trying to put things into our garage storage space while Maya played in front on her tricycle on our slanted driveway. Bear in mind, we've begun to see an adventurousness in her demeanor that wasn't really in full bloom until rather recently. So picture me fully distracted sorting out a few decades worth of camping equipment and untenable luggage. And Maya pushing her trike up the incline of the driveway. And then mounting said trike. And pushing off. Rumble rumble CRAAAASH! Scream! Picture me instantaneously expecting the Seattle Police or Child Protective Services EMTs being dispatched to our house. Blood. Cedar bark everywhere. Sadness. And...scene.

So here's the good news - Maya's fine. Better than fine, she's undamaged. She drove her renegade crotchrocket into the landscaping just off the otherwise more ominous concrete driveway. I felt like the worst Dad EVER for a few days, hence the posting lag. But she's healed amazingly well. A bloodied and abrased nose, no broken teeth, no permanent scars, no lawsuits. Yet. She is pretty young to be appropriately lashing out, after all. Still, I had a ringer up my sleeve that had nothing to do with Larry Craig's lawyers. Maya's grandparents and aunties arrived in the days after "The Crash" on a pre-scheduled visit to check out our new digs. I've learned Maya heals like a club fighter. She even hugged me somewhat recently. And she wanted me to tell y'all she's rockin' and rollin' like never before. We may even buy a new trike sometime soon. Of course, it will be one that only works on the flat until she's 16. If it ain't been invented yet, I'll make it. That's the kind of Dad I am.

Hope your own guilty moments do nothing to diminish the beauty of the opening Weekend of the NFL Season. Rock on.

My "intent" is to name my third child Favre

For today at least, undeniably disgraced Senator Larry Craig is testing the waters of a continued perp walk in his seat. Anyone who denies that politicians parse their words as carefully as legally possible should listen to this dandy that Roll Call rolled out today. The operative word is "intent" - as in, "my intent is to weasel out of this if everyone gets distracted by the September debate over Iraq and my wife doesn't snip off a testicle." It appears Ol' Wide Lair doesn't program numbers into his cell phone. Point blank - the Dems are praying that he's stupid enough to fight for his reputation. And it appears that stupid does strike more often in one place than lightning.

At long last, Oprah is getting serious about taking over the Nation. Thank gawd. If anyone can add some luster to a surprisingly buzz-free Barack Obama, it's this American Hero. Respect the "Oprah bounce". And, no, I'm not talking to you, Tom Cruise.


The NFL Season starts tomorrow night. I'm sure you've also got goosebumps by just saying that. I fully expect my Green Bay Packers to be sucking a middle teet somewhere out of the headlines aside from the magical Favre Farewell Tour sequel. Regardless, set your Tivos, call your bookies and kiss your kids goodbye for a few months worth of weekends.

Hope your own pre-season roster cuts left you with all the pieces necessary for a serious run toward the playoffs. Rock on.

But I'd bet he could still block a few of Rick Rossovich's spikes these days...

There's nothing more depressing than seeing into the frat house basement of Dubya's brain. Yet Robert Draper's book "Dead Certain" that plunges us all down that deep, dark stairwell arrives on the scene today. I guarantee y'all that it's being almost immediately added to my loyal Bushie bashing canon of reality-based books on the shelf in my new office. For the time being, throw up in your own mouths just a bit by reading the excerpts featuring today on Slate after a weekend worth of major paper foreshadowing. My fave thus far - Dubya riffing that he "understands the enemy watches me, the Iraqis are watching me, the troops watch me, and the people watch me." Yes, we do. And what a sight you are to behold.

As to the flyby PR stunt that was Dubya's visit to Iraq yesterday, I'll give the spectacle a middling C-minus rating. We all know the pushback from the Petraeus pseudo-report was due to start early. This just smells like a huge waste of cash and newsprint. If Dubya wanted to impress the troops at this point in the debacle I think he'd need to stage a beach volleyball showdown a la "Top Gun" with a greased up Goose as he showed Ice Man how good he looks out of his flight suit. Speaking of which, Dubya showed up wearing black on a sweltering afternoon in the desert. Do you trust this man's judgment?

And to complete the Iraq trifecta of observations for the day, Tom Davis (R-VA) is my official weathervane in this entire debate of just how we figure out the way to subtly cut and run away like banshees. For those paying WAY too much attention, Sen. John Warner announced on Friday his intention to not seek re-election. Everyone expects Tom Davis, who is a snotty little neocon if there ever was one in the House, to run for the GOP nomination. Well, lookie lookie - Tom Davis is calling for an exit strategy just prior to the Bushies pushing for a stay the course policy. September is gonna get girls gone wild nasty on this debate. Tom Davis is the first one to take his shirt off. Whatever that mixed metaphor means. Just keep an eye on him. Or let me do so, and check back.

Hope your own low-fat chef-prepared lunch menus will NEVER lead you to choose the hot dog. Rock on.

"Attention: Representative Whatshisface likes the BeeGees and once smoked a clove with a dwarf in Prague. YOU WERE WARNED."

Tough Friday news dump for the GOP. White House Press Secretary Tony Snow's resigning, Sen. Larry Craig is hanging on by a thread lit from both ends, Sen. John Warner's out of the race for his guaranteed re-election in '08, and it's not even the close of bizness on the East Coast. I hope someone's told Dubya his Party's ending while he clears brush or plans for Jenna's nups or whatever is on top of his agenda in Crawford. But if I held the briefing book, here are two oddballs I'd throw into the mix.

I'm currently shaped much more like my linebacker days, but I was also a competitive runner. Mitt Romney's no competitive runner. His new ad has more heavy breathing and odd pacing than geriatric porn. Watch it if you've over 21. Or rather, don't. He's such a fraud we shouldn't encourage further virility spoofs on his part.


The WashingtonPost today buried a little gem from the Green Zone in Baghdad that I'm sure will lead to a much larger story on the spin we'll be seeing over the next few months. Obviously, soldiers are being given bios of visiting Congresspersons to shade the stories told. Or maybe this is just part of a grander plan to encourage spitting in the food of certain dignitaries. It's a brief story, but so so damn worth reading. September will be a cloudy shitestorm of empty debate wrapped in a monstrous styrofoam layer of inpenatrable lies covered in truth-retardant goo. Just like Catholic school. Hey, don't blame me - I was raised a Methodist.

Hope your Labor Day weekend is heavy on the weekend, light on the labor. Rock on.

Infinitely more satisfying than a KFC "failure pile in a sadness bowl"

I'm a big fan of Keith Olbermann. His "Countdown" is the best news show on the TeeVee, bar none. He calls out everyone on their rank hypocrises. And does it with flair. Blah blah blah. But what one of his producers did last night with the Larry Craig shamefest reached a new level of virtuosity. Watch it. Now.




One quickie review - Patton Oswalt is my favorite comedian. He's smart, surprising, perfectly-timed, my age and he did volunteer performing/fundraising work with 826 Valencia in San Francisco where I also volunteered. His latest comedy album has been my default CD in the car for the last few weeks. "Werewolves and Lollipops" is not for the easily offended, of which I am certainly not one. My rating - a solid A. Not since Steve Martin's comedy albums loomed large in my pre-teen years have I replayed comedy this often to gauge the timing and intellect of the delivery. Seriously. Buy it. Now.

Hope your own wide stance is productive today. Rock on.

Never forget

As the bleak anniversary of the debacle short-handed as Katrina is overly spun, I hope we all take a minute to cut through the PR blitz. Make that two minutes if you watch this often overlooked piece from the BBC. Dubya should be chased down those now vacant streets in so many areas of New Orleans by a rampaging crowd with pitchforks.


Hope your own levees aren't topped today. Rock on.

Focusing on the trees 'cause the forest scares the crap out of me

Gonzo's gone. So? Screw that guy. The only ones that lose in this overdue turn from that infamous worm are the people that dedicated their lives to the Justice Department and the larger practice of protecting the Constitution. But who cares - it's August so let's get straight to the tabloid crap!

Senator Larry Craig has done us all a favor by getting busted for cruising in the Twin Cities - we now all know to avoid taking a "wide stance" in a stall and that putting your luggage by the door to block the view is a dead giveaway to the cop that might be faking a dump session nearby. I for one will hereafter never even bolt the door. Thanks, Larry. You deserve another one of them Medals of Freedom that Dubya seems to be willing to toss around like so many Mardi Gras beads.

If you haven't yet seen the stunning and stunningly dumb Miss Teen South Carolina's answer to an utterly inane question at the pagent, you obviously have a life. But put that aside for a minute and revel in the syrupy stink of too much time spent putting on makeup, not enough time reading anything other that Nutrasweet packaging.


Sadly, Owen Wilson appears to have had a breakdown that according to his publicists certainly couldn't have been a desperate cry for help. I say sadly because I honestly find him to be a talented actor and writer. In personal terms, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting his parents in Dallas at my neighborhood coffeeshop the day after "Shanghai Noon" opened. Sarah and I'd seen it just the night before and loved it. His Mom was wearing a shirt festooned with the movie's title and when I asked about it they practically burst into song describing Owen and Luke and Andrew and their seemingly bastard son Wes. They were the sort of parents that made you instantly believe breeders can't be all bad. I've never forgotten that 15-minute conversation and I've joked of it often to friends and family since. Here's hoping that Owen gets real healthy real soon. Rock on.

Who would think that this mess...

Who would think that this mess...
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Could become this beauty.

Could become this beauty.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

After only a few thousand profanities and a few dozen threats to throw the whole operation over the edge of the deck, we be grillin'. Please feel free to invite yourself over for a demonstration of our new platform's mastery.

"Yo. Wearin' shades on the flipside iz so Seazizzle."

"Yo. Wearin' shades on the flipside iz so Seazizzle."
Originally uploaded by emaggie

The grill awaits, yet I'm still here...

I'm way off my usual game. New house distractions abound. And for those that have voiced discontent in my intermittent posting, I agree. I am losing focus. So before I put together our new grill (!!!), I want to weigh in on a few issues...

Dubya's speech to the VFW this week was without overstatement THE BIGGEST TRAVESTY IN THE HISTORY OF REVISIONISM. As the most famous draft dodger in the history of our Nation, you'd think he'd shy away from trying to tell us what we all missed in that debacle. In all honesty, I've been so pissed about his speech that I've purposely not posted anything the last few days. So at least he's got that going for him.

Robert Murray (the disgraceful coal baron that has had more underserved media exposure than a boatload of Paris Hiltons) is about to be served up like a retreat-mined turkey. This guy had me mad at "hello". And as soon as you can say "heckuva job, Brownie" the recess appointment of Richard Stickler is looking like yet another moment where all Americans should be shaking not only their heads in reaction to what the loyal Bushies are doing to phuck with everything before their last 17 months in power are left to History to deride. Speaking of which, it's now legal to blow up mountains in Appallacia and let the crap rain down on the rivers. Woo-whee!

Michael Vick should hereafter be doomed to starring in "The Longest Yard" sequels. He'll have time enough to do a bundle.

For those looking for reviews, here's a few quickies. "The Simpsons" was hilarious, but at best a solid B. "Mad Men" is far and away the best new show on the TeeVee (solid A rating). The Milwaukee Brewers are lovable but should be almost unassailably doomed were it not for the collective crappiness of the Cubs and Cards. Barack Obama is becoming the shallowest man in politics (although I still support him). The newly downsized NYTimes is too small for me to read comfortably on an elliptical trainer at the gym, so it sucks. And even though the American real estate market is more phucked than Lindsay Lohan's insurability, we love our new home. Hope y'all can visit sometime soon, if you call ahead and get a cavity search. Rock on.

For those interested in seeing our new home, Maya has been selected to provide the first tour of some exterior highlights.

For those interested in seeing our new home, Maya has been selected to provide the first tour of some exterior highlights.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Maya reacts to the news that she drew the short straw on doing the landscaping out front.

Maya reacts to the news that she drew the short straw on doing the landscaping out front.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

"Daddy, why don't madras ties from the 80s clean shoes that well?"

"Daddy, why don't madras ties from the 80s clean shoes that well?"
Originally uploaded by emaggie

She may not be dressed for yard work. But Maya's still game.

She may not be dressed for yard work. But Maya's still game.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Maya contemplates her new playhouse. Which she'll be old enough to climb up into herself at the end of Barack Obama's Second Term.

Maya contemplates her new playhouse. Which she'll be old enough to climb up into herself at the end of Barack Obama's Second Term.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Maya christens our new deck with a faceplant.

Maya christens our new deck with a faceplant.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Jenna, Karl and Maya - to hereafter never be linked again

Wow. August. Who knew so much could happen while Dubya was on another vacation. For those playing catch-up, here's a spare few notes from just the last few days.



Jenna Bush is engaged. To this tool. So the surge is working.

Karl Rove left D.C. to spend more time screwing up his family's future.

And our darling Maya is diggin' her new digs. So my vacation from regular posting is over. Basically. Well, after we head down to Santa Barbara this weekend for a wedding. Maya's psyched to make a sandcastle on the beach. I'm psyched to take a break from unpacking boxes. And I hope y'all are psyched that the fall is right around the corner. Rock on.