Goodbye

Yesterday I went to the law building for what I sincerely hope is the last time ever, though I know CLE and other unspeakable horrors will draw me back into its clutches once again. Though presumably enough time will pass before that dark day that I will have begun to feel nostalgic, wistful even, about those hallowed halls, and will wander around going, "This is where I..." Unfortunately, in my head, most of my sentences still end with, "... spent many many horrible hours doing this terribly unappreciated project for ungrateful 1Ls and an administration apparently largely ignorant of my contributions."

But for now, que sera sera.

I am concerned I will be bored. Having started each day around 8 for the last three years, (yes, I said around 8, I don't want to hear any 'class doesn't start at 8:10' style comments from you people) and finishing upwards of 1 or 2am each day, (As it turns out, after finishing hours of often pointless SBA or journal work, I then still had to do my own schoolwork. Go figure.) I am both looking forward to and terrified of a regular schedule, where my day ends at a set time, and I have nothing to do but stare into the abyss.

A number of hobbies have crossed my mind: roller derby, craft projects much like the fabulous book vase I made yesterday, gardening, suburban widowed single mom running a large scale marijuana growing business to make ends meet and support her two children, etc. I don't know about any of those, but I do think I shall start a new blog. I considered continuing this one, but for this new chapter in my life, I feel a new blog is appropriate. It will undoubtedly be full of more trite sayings like that.

Mainly, I envision it to be full of my typical witty and amazing insights into your life and mine, which will then clearly come to the attention of someone important and possibly famous who wants to give me millions of dollars to sit at home and blog. Then I won't have to be a lawyer anyway. Though, the bar results may determine that one first.

A new blog name is still in the works (suggestions anyone?), but for now, I feel it is important to close out this blog.

Saying goodbye is an interesting thing. I mostly hate to do it, and I certainly had mixed emotions turning in my office key yesterday. But my key chain is the lightest it's been in two years and so is the load on my back.

And so, in the grand tradition of my favorite play, Thornton Wilder's Our Town, I say goodbye to law school. Good-bye to bells ringing....and the Lemon Tree. And stolen SBA snacks and coffee. And other people's outlines and commercial supplements....and never sleeping and waking up grouchy. Oh, law school, you are too horrible for anybody to realize you.

Help for the Needy

So it has been about 13 months since the last time you, my faithful and diligent readers, experienced my blog. And many of you may have stumbled upon it for the first time. To you I say, where the hell were you before?

Anyway, the blog is back, bitches. Thanks for playing the home game.

Many things have transpired since last we met. I've slept for around 2000 hours, spent somewhere between 330 and 350 hours on youtube, and brushed my teeth approximately 700 times. I discovered Mad Men, I ate goat, and I realized my potential as a sand volleyball phenom. Phenominally bad that is.

An important thing that's happened in the last 331 days is my discovery of this so-called television show on A & E: Intervention. Now, despite having watched around 1200 hours of television since you last heard from me, I can honestly say I have never watched more than around 1.5 minutes of this show. Now, you may be wondering why I'm willing to devote precious blog space to a show I don't watch. But don't worry, I'm planning to tell you.

The reason I don't watch Intervention is because I have digital cable. I flip over to the description and it's like, "blah blah blah alcohol problem" "blah blah blah drug addiction" every single week! And really, I say, who cares.

It is my belief that there are many more pressing addictions and personal issues that should be the subject of this show.

For example:

#1- Facebook
There are two incredibly pressing issues with facebook. The first is if you are someone who starts sentences with, "I saw on facebook that..." or you can't be surprised by anything anyone tells you because, oh, you saw it on facebook already. This is creepy. People do not react well when you already know everything about them. Or so I've heard.

Secondly, you might be a facebook oversharer. I'm sorry you can't pay your mortgage or you have a bizarre medical issue, but your facebook status is not the appropriate place to discuss this. And for the love of God, I do not need to see a picture of your peed-on pregnancy test, and there should never be a caption to a photo that reads, "right after my c-section- look, you can see my guts!" No. Just no.

To break your family member or friend of their facebook habit, the obvious solution is to cancel their facebook account. I'm not sure this is harsh enough. I say let them keep it, but ban them from Yoville. That will really hurt.

#2- White Rappers
There's really not much that needs to be said about this. Really, Vanilla Ice, all you heard was shells? What, like seashells? Were you near an ocean? Take heed guys, he's a lyrical poet. You know who else was a lyrical poet? Shakespeare. And he wasn't hard either. Take those words to your mother.

To break your friend or family member of their white rapping addiction, all you need to do is hold a mirror up in front of them and point out how ridiculous they look. They do not look cool. They just look like a white guy wearing way too much FUBU.

#3- Apostrophe Abusers
I have a few pet peeves. (I'm looking at you, people who drive in the turn lane on Nicholasville Road.) However, none strike's up a more virulent hatred in me than those who fail to follow the rules' of grammar. And no mistake is more prevalent than the excessive use of apostrophe's. It is not necessary to use an apostrophe each time something need's to become plural. It's amazing to me, in a society based on laziness, that we would go out of our way to make the effort to add an extra punctuation mark. We will get in our car's and drive one block to obtain our double cheese thickburger at Hardee's but let's add an entire unnecessary punctuation mark to our signage. Oh, and quotation mark's. Not "everything" need's to be in "quotation" mark's. What are you quoting??

To break your family member's, friend's, local business'es, and stranger's of this habit, you must point it out to the in the snootiest way possible. Do not hesitate to stop your car by the side of the road, get out, and remove an apostrophe from a church marquee. It's for the good of "everyone."

#4- People Who Don't Like Journey
A wise philosopher/Bachelor contestant once said, "If you say you don't like Journey, you're a damn liar." I fully realize that in the past few years, it has become incredibly popular to like Journey. There is one reason for this: Journey. is. Awesome. It is my firm belief that anyone who says they don't like Journey is secretly listening to "Open Arms" on repeat in their bedroom at night. I'm not wrong about this.

To break your friends and family of this issue, you should take them to any bar full of drunk, white college kids, play Don't Stop Believin' on the jukebox, and let the mass appreciation ensue.

#5- People Who Think Rockband is Real
When you spend much of your time playing our generation's greatest video game experience, Rockband, or its bastard cousin Guitar Hero, sometimes the lines blur between reality and being an amazing musician. This just in: you're just a dude sitting in his house pressing plastic buttons, you're not "unplugged." And girls in bars are significantly unimpressed by the fact that you're a drummer when it turns out that your "drumset" is connected to a playstation 2.

To break your friends and family members of this problem, you should get them a gig or enter them in a Battle of the Bands. Then invite everyone they know. Then laugh and point.


Please feel free to forward this to A&E. And mark your calendars for Fridays. Fridays are blog days.

Marry Me a Little

Somehow, without even realizing it, I have turned 24. I suppose this makes me solidly in the dreaded zone of "mid-twenties" but at the same time, I'm not exactly living it up like reportedly you're supposed to. It's hard to live the Sex and the City lifestyle when you have Criminal Procedure at 8 a.m.

However, in what I assume is a plan to feed my insecurities and my worry about being left behind, a number of my friends have finished their higher education and moved on to what some might argue are bigger and better things, a higher purpose. Namely, marriage.

If Charlotte treated marriage as a sorority she was desperate to pledge, then I'm Alexandra Robbins, writing my treatise from the outside on the seedy underbelly of the real world of the sorority. It's all white dresses at the end of Rush and presents and joy now, just to sit around a year or two later wishing you could get out, but not wanting to have wasted all that money. That metaphor was pretty awesome, you have to admit.

As a single person of a certain age, by which I mean my age and more specifically me, one seems to be at a different wedding every day. Well, every weekend. And I just have to say, they're all the same. Some married people embrace this, the reality that they're not radically different because their cake is chocolate instead of white or they play "Shout!" first and then "Friends in Low Places." But there are a few people who must hear that because they made their bridesmaid dresses or had an ice sculpture that you've never been to a more unique expression of love than theirs. One thing holds true: all of these couples for some reason require a trash can that costs between $100 and $150.

Aside from suddenly requiring much more expensive things that do the same thing as the Wal-Mart version they currently own, some married people come back from their honeymoon having had a Stepfordesque personality change. But inexplicably, some people seem exactly the same.

The way I see it, there are only five different types of married couples.

#1: Mr. and Mrs. Joiner
The Joiners treat marriage as though it was an awesome night club they were dying to get into and finally they did. They're sure that this night club is the only one anyone could possibly ever want to go to, and so they try their damndest to get everyone they know in. Seriously, "guys and gals," you know this couple. You have coffee with them and they grill you about your dating life. They invite you over for dinner and his just-perfect-for-you friend from work just happens to drop by. The Joiners will not rest until everyone they know is in the supposedly perfect wedded bliss they wake up to every day.

How to Deal: The absolute worst thing to do is to get married. If you do decide to take the plunge around the Joiners, do not tell them. They will not hesitate to "help" you plan your wedding. And luckily, they had the most unique wedding that has ever been. I mean, they played three BonJovi songs!

#2: Mr. and Mrs. Ex-Communicator
Once the Ex-communicators got married, they became only able to socialize with other married people. Occasionally they lower themselves to hang out with engaged people, but only because they know they'll soon be in the club. These people treat marriage like a wall with a single door to which they have the key, and they're heading through and might see you again if you ever find the right combination. (Hint: try "saucy") Soon these people will have babies and playdates and you really will never see them again. Except for awkwardly in the mall one Saturday afternoon, you'll glimpse them going into Gymboree while you're picking up a new whisk at Williams Sonoma. You will, of course, hide in the pots and pans. Here's a tip: Colanders don't provide as much protection as you might think.

How to Deal: Once you fully realize the impact of their dearth of friendship, get really drunk, bitch about them in a bar, and then be done with it. Classmates: they'll call you again when they need a divorce lawyer. You will, of course, let it go to voicemail.

#3: Mr. and Mrs. Joined at the Hip
You used to either just grab pedis with Mrs. Hip or grab a beer and some wings with Mr. Hip at the bar. But now, you can't have one without the other. You call Mrs. Hip to see if she wants to go for coffee and she of course says, "Sure, we'll be there!" Inwardly you sigh. But what can you do? You are left with the only option, which is, of course, describing some horrible faux gynecological struggle to your friend in front of Mr. Hip so that he never wants to spend time with you again, or alternatively, for the menfolk, throwing around the c-word and phrases like, "I'd hit that" when Mr. Hip brings along the little wife to guys' night.

How to Deal: Grin, bear it, and secretly hope they turn into Mr. and Mrs. Ex-Communicator.

#4: Mr. and Mrs. Pity, Party of Two
Mr. and Mrs. Pity Party genuinely feel bad for you. Isn't that nice of them? Will you ever know the joy of potentially having to compromise your person to commit to one person's ideal of you for the next 50 years? And, most importantly, will you ever get a $300 blender? Mr. and Mrs. Pity Party spend a lot of time talking amongst themselves about how sad and lonely you must be, simply because you haven't found the joy that one very expensive party and a permanent person responsible for taking out the garbage can bring a woman.

How to Deal: Tell them all about your fabulous Sex and the City lifestyle. Embellish if you need to. They're just jealous that you get to sleep with a different person every night, even if you don't. And besides, their concern for you gives them something to talk about to keep their marriage alive. You're doing them a favor.


#5: Mr. and Mrs. Exactly the Same
If you didn't own 8000 pictures of yourself in a big poofy hideously colored dress, you would totally forget they had gotten married. Often the Sames lived together before they were married (sinners!) or you were already friends with both of them, and their marriage in no way affected your life. Or really theirs. Aside from the giving and receiving of a $100 lint roller. The Sames embraced the concept of non-unique weddings, had a white cake, danced to a sappy love song, and Mrs. Same of course said, "the best thing about this dress is that you can wear it again!" Theirs is the marriage you want to have because you don't want to lose all your friends when you tie the knot, right? Sadly, this is also the marriage everyone thinks they have, when my independent research has shown that only about 1 out of every 10 couple has this marriage. How odd.

How to Deal: While comparing every other married couple you know to them, breathe a sigh of relief that someone hasn't gone crazy. At least until babies start coming. But that's another blog for another day.


One final word of advice on dealing with the married: If you walk into a couple's home and above their sofa is a framed black and white picture of their wedding rings inside a flower, run.

Living in the Land of the Lost

Occasionally, I lose things. Some of you might think I've lost my will to blog or blawg. But this is in fact not the case at all. I have lost the time to blog/blawg, but I will persevere.

But really, when I say I lose things, I refer mostly to things like the debit card I lost on my birthday, or that I'm constantly losing things inside my own house, or the fact that I cannot hold onto a tube of Burt's Bees to save my life. Hell, I even lost my cat once. (This one not technically my fault, as he fell through the window screen and subsequently hid under the nearest shrub until he was found. No seriously, that happened.)

Anyway, because I would not like to lose the Earth and would like to lose weight, I'm pretty much trying to walk everywhere. Well, within reason. Reasonable= walking a mile to Kroger. Unreasonable= walking to visit my grandma in Cincinnati. Surprisingly, the thing about walking is not that no one respects crosswalks. (This just in: it's bad to hit pedestrians.) But rather the thing that amazes me is the volume of lost items that I see on sidewalks.

I always wonder: how does one lose just one shoe? I'm guessing that probably it doesn't go like, you're walking along and you decide that instead you'd rather hop on one foot. And it's unlikely that you just don't realize you lost your shoe. I imagine it's probably more likely that lost shoes are because of one or more of these scenarios:

1. While being chased by a large animal, possibly a moose, you are running so quickly your shoe falls off and you are unable to retrieve it, due to mortal peril.
2. That girl from the Michael Phelps commercial is in such a frantic race to hear the "hilarious stories about how much he loves Chinese food" that she doesn't have time to go back for her shoe.
3. It's Christmastime and Dutch children came through and got confused about where to leave their shoes to be filled by Sinterklaas.
4. While running late for a class, for example, Criminal Procedure (I hear sometimes people have trouble getting there on time), a biker was too weighed down by trivial things like shoes and was forced to throw them off to increase his or her speed.
5. You were hungry and threw it in an unsuccessful attempt to get the pizza delivery man ahead of you to stop and "loan" you a pizza.

Random lost shoes aside (and underwear! who loses their underwear!), there are a number of things in our lives that are very easily lost:
1. keys
2. socks (Seriously, where do they go?!?!?!)
3. virginity (See entry: Tequila Law)
4. mind
5. way
6. boys (See work of fiction: Peter Pan)
7. umbrella (See: my life)
8. marbles
9. sponsors (See every plotline of the short-lived post-West Wing semi-autobiographical Aaron Sorkin series Studio 60. That's right. Six people got that joke.)
10. sunglasses (Though, always the nice ones. The cheap ones from the Rite-Aid stick with you forever.)

There are a few things though that we should try really hard to lose:
Bad Attitude. Now, I am a wholly positive person and never have a bad attitude about anything. But I have noticed that some people might at times be crabby or cranky. Today when I was walking at the Arboretum, I kept passing the same woman who never once said hello, smiled at me or even looked at me. I was outraged! Our collective bad attitude is weighing us down, giving us eye circles, probably causing global warming, and, of course, forcing us to stress eat, and that is, in a word, abominable. Some ways to lose your bad attitude: play with a puppy, download the iPhone application that compliments you, watch Big Brother (you'll feel so much better about yourself!), watch something with Kermit the Frog (it is undeniably impossible to not be happy while watching The Muppets), or for some of you, watch a Fox News Special on Sarah Palin (I hear anyone can be president if they want it badly enough!)

Unspeakably Awful Christmas or Birthday Gifts. Last year for Christmas my dear sweet grandmother gave me a giant pillow made almost entirely of awkward denim patches. With a pocket. With a bandana in it. And I love my grandma, but that is just... well, in a word, abominable. Some gifts are easier to lose than others though, which presents a degree of difficulty for the losing. For example, how does one lose a pillow? I tried to leave it in my old apartment when last I moved, but fortunately my mom was looking out for me. Way to go, Mom! Some things are easier to lose than others: ugly sweaters can be "left" at the gym, terrible bags can be "left" on vacation, and remember: sometimes things get broken. Accidentally of course.

And there are some things you should try really hard not to lose:
Your Driver's License. It's just a huge hassle. I mean, you have to go all the way downtown, find a place to park. Then you have to go to the DMV, where they yell at you that they only take cash the second you walk in the door. As if the 40,000 signs posted around the room weren't enough to tip you off. Then you have to go to like 8 windows. All of which are inhabited by people who yell at you to go to the next window. However, at the DMV in Fayette County, there's a guy who looks like Elvis. So there's that.

The Remote. Why would you want to walk all the way to the tv? Picture this: you've sat down with your jumbo popcorn and pint of Ben and Jerrys to watch The Biggest Loser and BAM no remote. I mean, why even bother to watch tv if you have to manually change the channels? Might as well go work out if you're going to do that. Wait... nah.

Touch With Reality. This is probably the most important. Because no one wants to be served burgers by a guy who thinks he's on Entourage, a hairdresser who thinks she's America's Next Top Model, or a lawyer who thinks he's God. And there are a lot of those. I mean burger flippers that dream of Ari Gold's life, of course.

Is Something Different?

So I suppose the polite and nice thing to do would be to make up some sort of excuse as to why I didn't blog for, oh, most of July. But then I thought, no. The Leader of the Free World spends most of August on his dude ranch (Heeeey Dude) and damnit I deserve a vacation too. I mean, I at least phoned it in with that pseudo-lame ADT entry. The only way to get W in from clearing brush and mucking stalls is to tell him there's a good opportunity to start a war. (Incidentally, telling him Laura is back from the grocery store and she bought Twinkies also works.)

However, now, without me even noticing, it has somehow become August. And while terrifying in and of itself, I realize that I have missed some moments of contact with each of you, and most importantly, you, my loyal readers, have been unable to obtain knowledge and interact with me on a weekly basis. And for this, I will apologize.

You may have noticed that this blog is blue now. If you didn't notice that it is blue rather than brown, you might want to consider having some sort of medical care either immediately or at least within the next 48-72 hours. Can't let those head injuries go for too long. You never know what might happen to you. (Insert easy Bush head injury joke here.)

A number of things have happened in my life since we last conversed, or at least you were last forced to listen to/read my musings on a bizarre topic. What's happened lately:

• --rediscovered my love for Journey
• --became unreasonably good at the clown game on Wii Carnival Games
• --half-assedly learned to be ethical
• --turned my blog blue
• --developed an addiction to Chili's
• --spent an entire afternoon watching drunk people attempt to swim
  
• --cut my viewings of Superbad down to bi-weekly
• --took multiple online vacations, as it was all I could afford the time and money for
• --Shark Week
• --remembered success at avoiding Napoleon Dynamite and decided to try not to see The Dark Knight
• --purchased multiple items I could not afford
  
• --learned from John McCain that Czechoslovakia reunited- so excited!
  
• --considered taking a trip to Czechoslovakia but found the building of time machine to be cost prohibitive

But the most important thing that is happening in my life, or actually in the world's life, is that the Olympics start this week.

China is really really going all out for this experience. In the equivalent of a college student hiding the booze and pushing all the dirty laundry under the bed when their mom is coming, the Chinese government has instituted a series of reforms:

• +This past week they asked restaurant owners to make the ultimate sacrifice and remove dog meat from their dishes while there are those visiting their country who might prefer to cuddle a puppy rather than digest one. However, they are still allowed to serve donkey. So, don't worry. It's just donkey.

• +Unfortunately, our athletes and athletes all over the world seem to be concerned about silly, insignificant things like being blown up by terrorists before their competition, or breathing in a plethora of pollutants. However, China has made sure that the coughing, bleeding athletes will not feel awkward. Never one to allow their citizens to act of their own volition, posters have been placed all over Beijing, reminding each person of the "Big 8"- the eight things never to ask a foreigner: age, salary, love life, health, income, political views, religious beliefs or personal experiences. Because if there's one thing I hate when I'm visiting a foreign country, it's when the friendly citizens walk up to me and demand to know how long it's been since I've had sex. Such a frequent problem! Thank you China for meeting my needs.
  

• +China is graciously agreeing to spare us from seeing the more unsavory portions of their country, closing the basement door so we don't see their storage boxes and dirty laundry. China wants you to stay in the living room. And never never never open the door and peek in at Tibet.
  

• +Finally, China is willing to say what we're all thinking. Keep those people with "mental diseases" away from the Olympics! Here's hoping Team Spirit isn't a mental disease. Though, I guess it depends on the team. Canadian shotputters? Who cares. I'm saving my enthusiasm for the 2010 Jamaican Bobsled Team.
  

In honor of the work that the Chinese government has done, perhaps we should all celebrate the Olympics like the Chinese. So I urge you, for the next two weeks: be overly polite to any new people you meet, oppress the people you already know, and pin all your hopes on Yao Ming.

This bLAWg Protected by ADT

So first of all, let me just say, shut the hell up. In the past few weeks, you might have noticed that I have neglected my blog. In fact, most of you noticed. And most of the most gave me a hard time about it. I appreciate your loyal readership, I do. But, come on people, it's summer!

Let me tell you a little about what I've been doing with my summer vacation. (Vacation! Ha!) In addition to working and studying (um, I have to take a final in like a week!), I have been walking every day and exploring my neighborhood. You learn and see a lot of things when you walk around (usually through getting hopelessly lost). Today alone I saw three people fixing their cars and a group of people playing Beer Pong in their open garage. (You would think after the first few times they had to chase the ball into the street, they would have shut the door.) I have seen baby ducks, countless bunnies, and have, of course, been pooped on by a bird.

Despite getting to know things like where the shortcuts are and the wisdom of skipping the nightly walk when it is going to rain, I have also marveled at the sheer number of people boasting they have an ADT security system. And to them, I would like to say two things: First of all, where do you get off making me feel bad because you think your stuff is more important than my stuff? Secondly, how do I really know you have that fancy schmancy security system anyway? Maybe you just have the sign.

But then I got to thinking, and here's the part where I sound like Carrie Bradshaw, we are all really obsessed with security. I'm not sure if it's an American thing, or a human thing, but we use security as an excuse for everything.

Take guns for example. We say, "I need a gun to keep my house and my family safe." I read somewhere reputable there are statistics that show that gun ownership makes you more likely to be a victim of violence. So why do we lie? Why not just say, "I need a gun because I f-ing love guns."

Sometimes you hear about women getting married for security. And really, what does that even mean. I've long since given up on the notion that men provide protection in the night, after a certain former significant other woke me up to inform me someone was trying to get in my front door and I should go check it out. Is it money? Because I'm pretty sure we don't live in a country anymore where women have to have husbands to survive. Turns out we can go and get well-paying jobs on our own. And almost as well-paying as our male counterparts!

If this blog were in any way political, I might mention here that we like security so much that we are willing to give up our fundamental rights and tenets on which this country was built in order to achieve so-called security. We gave up our right to privacy so that the Department of Homeland Security (there that word is again) could put up a bunch of plastic ADT signs around the edges of our country.

We have security in our possessions. We take comfort in knowing that we have cars that will take us where we need to go and when they don't work, we are uncomfortable and upset. (I can personally attest to this, as it was my morning.)

We find security in the weirdest things. I've noticed the last few nights that I am not afraid of noises I heard outside because I have the big black dog. Granted, when we were walking last night, she hid behind me because she was afraid of chihuahuas who, aggregate, were less than a quarter of her size. Not exactly a ferocious watch dog, but if the Bush Administration is proof of anything, it's that Americans enjoy the illusion of security. (Oops, not political.)

Where does this even come from? You are without a doubt wondering, what causes America, as a whole, to be insecure?

Here are, as I see it, Three Reasons America is Insecure:

1. Abandonment Issues. In the early days, those who are now Americans came from multiple other countries. And then what did those countries do? They just gave up on us. They just allowed us to become our own country, out in the world on our own with not so much as a word goodbye.

2. Teenage Angst. Clearly for the last roughly 200 years, America has been in some sort of pro-tracted teenage rebellion. We were merely ornery pre-teens before that whole unfortunate tea spillage incident. And now, without the guidance of adult countries, we've been left to become the schoolyard bully. And as everyone who has ever watched an after-school special knows, bullies are the most insecure of all of us.

3. Poor Body Image. America has never thought it was nearly as pretty as any of the other countries. We have mountains and valleys everywhere, odd angles on our edges, and we can never find clothes that fit right. Speaking of which, our clothes are not as nice as France's, and our hair is not as shiny as Sweden's. We must take comfort only in that we have better teeth than England. Our poor body image is clearly causing us to act out. Why do we hate Osama bin Laden? I heard it's because he told his friends on the basketball team that he didn't think we were cute enough to ask to the prom.

Probably America needs to seek some group counseling to get over our clinging to things that make us secure (i.e. guns, religion) and we need to work through our issues and learn to be confident in ourselves. Or some New Age crap like that. Could the same effect be achieved by listening to a lot of Enya? Probably. But then the Country Psychology Industry would be dead. Besides, look what Country Therapists did for Germany. They used to be harsh and warlike, and just totally unfuckable. But now... well, they haven't been in a war in 60 years. So there's that.

You Heard It Here First

Up until now, I've avoided being outwardly political, except for a few asides and candidate mentions. And now that my candidate of choice has walked the plank of the Good Ship Presidential Clusterfuck (Mike Gravel, I miss you so!!), it is likely that I won't state which candidate I'll support from here on out. Though, I will openly admit to you that I think Libertarian Party Candidate Bob Barr has one bitchin' mustache. But at the end of the day, it doesn't matter to whom my vote goes in November and that is because of this one simple fact: The next president of the United States will be, without a doubt, John McCain.

For many months, the strategy of the Democratic Party has been to show buddy buddy pictures of McCain and our current illustrious commander-in-chief one Mr. George W. Bush. (Perhaps you've heard of him.) The phrases we're hearing over and over and over and over again are "four more years" and "more of the same" and though I, for one, am seriously getting sick of hearing it, it's all but ensuring that John McCain, he of the freakishly old mother, the awkward pictures with male colleagues, and the Early Bird Special, will be our next president. The Democratic Party is forgetting one very important thing. For the American people, "more of the same" is practically our battle cry. "More of the same" is the entire basis of our society.

When was the last time we had a new fast food restaurant? We're perfectly happy with a half a dozen national chains and a few regional specialties we can brag about having back in our hometowns. We like the same dozen movie actors and we spend our days watching the same three major television networks, occasionally switching over to Fox if we really want to slum it.

And it is these tv networks that truly embody our "less is more, more is terrifying" strategy for living our lives. There are, as of the time of this writing, only 5 different television shows. And certainly a group of people who can't handle more than 5 premises, can't handle breaking in a new president. Change is bad, and not only can television network executives clearly count on and exploit this mentality, but so can John McCain. And, with careful planning and promotion, it can be through these 5 television concepts that Senator John McCain (R, AZ) will drive 35 mph in the fast lane all the way to Pennsylvania Ave.

#1: The Crime Drama
It's a little after 8 on a Tuesday and there are, on average 495 million television sets turned to some sort of crime drama. (This total includes all 6 tvs in Cuba.) Roughly 2/3 of these are tuned to some form of Law and Order or CSI, but a fair amount are viewing some of the off-brand crime dramas such as Without a Trace, Criminal Minds, Cold Case, and The Ghost Whisperer (not technically a crime drama, it's just a crime that show is still on). Even though we've exhausted the types of crime to dramatize, we continue to have these episodes. Pretty soon they'll be down to those obscure laws about things like not hunting whales in Oklahoma (real law). In the season opener of CSI: New York, they investigate a man's curious motive in jumping the subway turnstile. Spoiler Alert: It's because he doesn't want to pay!
How McCain can capitalize on this: by playing the ubiquitous Law and Order "dunh dunh" after any important point in a speech or by pausing occasionally after outlining a policy, looking in the distance thoughtfully and putting on his sunglasses

#2: The Talent Show
America doesn't really have talent, clearly, but we have 80 million televised talent shows that seek to capitalize on our dream of being noticed for that weird secret talent we have or for the "great" way we sing. My question is: If every one of these shows is finding the biggest talent in America, then which one of these "winners" is really the biggest talent? Shouldn't there be some sort of runoff?
How McCain can capitalize on this: Each of the potential vice-presidential candidates brings his own unique factors to the table, and while some might consider things like a significant vetting process and compatibility with the candidate to be the most important ways to determine an appropriate running mate, John McCain thinks America can decide! True, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal is young and charismatic, but he can also juggle. But can he beat out former Governor of Massachusetts Mitt Romney's top notch beat boxing? Fun fact: Bush used this method to choose his cabinet. Secretary of Labor Elaine Chao was the only contestant that could spin plates.

#3: The Show Where Everyone Lives in a House And Forgets There Are Cameras
From back when The Real World was worth watching (remember Seattle?) to today's Big Brother, America loves the show where everyone lives in a house and are watched 24/7, then edited together to make them seem really exciting and/or contentious. We've even added new twists like a whole bunch of washed up celebrities living in a house, or weirdos who are obsessed with training dogs living in a house, and we even sat through several seasons of an unintelligble Ozzie Osborne leading a household of crazy persons and dogs.
How McCain can capitalize on this: The Mac will put his potential cabinet members in one house and let the booze flow and the cameras roll. If they can work together to put on a radio show, or do promotions for a night club, or book entertainment for their local surf apparel shop (You can tell which seasons of The Real World I watched) then they can for sure work together to run a country. Downside: Elizabeth Dole might be the one that always walks around naked.

#4: The Show Where the Husband is a Doofus, the Wife is Sort of a Bitch, and the Kids are Incorrigible
Call it the Homer Simpson effect, but America loves this format. From Roseanne to Everybody Loves Raymond to According to Jim, it's always a hit. And really, America, really? Who wants to watch a show about what happens in 90% of the households in America? Apparently we do.
How McCain can capitalize on this: With a slew of undoubtedly incorrigible children and a wife that sort of gives off the bitch vibe already, (can't blame her, you'd be a bitch too if your hair was always pulled back that tight) McCain is poised for some gentle comedy. Sample dialogue:
Cindy: How was your day, dear?
John: It was okay, the usual. I just can't get us out of this war.
Cindy: Well, I told you not to start back up with North Korea. You know how I don't like that little crazy leader they have. Why don't you ever listen to me? And why don't you ever take out the garbage?
Little Jack: Dad, can you sign my permission slip? We're going to the zoo tomorrow!
Cindy: Not now, Little Jacky, Dad has to take the garbage out.
John: But Cindy, I just got home from a long day leading the free world.

#5: The Show Where Twenty-Something Friends Go Through Relationships and Job Crises All While Hanging Out at Their Local Bar, Restaurant, or Coffee House
Friends set the bar high, and few shows have been able to match the sheer mania of those 10 years in the 90's and early Aughts (I'm trying to make that happen) but many shows have tried, most recently How I Met Your Mother. America loves the idea of an even number of attractive people living in apartments they couldn't possibly afford, living glamorous lifestyles, and having complicated sexual relationships with each other. I mean, what middle aged housewife didn't gather up her girlfriends a few weekends ago and head to see the Sex and the City movie, gleefully bragging, "I'm a Miranda!" No, you're a Delores. And the "city" is New York, not Cleveland.
How McCain can capitalize on this: Well, here is where he runs into a problem. Being not at all young and hip, he wouldn't exactly have an in with the under 30 crowd. Perhaps he could do a cameo as one of the kids' loveable and dorky dads (or grandpas) in for a visit to the big city. He maybe could play the bartender, but he'd have to stay awake past 10:00... and he probably doesn't drive at night. But hey, no harm in letting a few opportunities slide to the Obama column. This is similar to his strategy in Florida.

Honorable Mention: The Hour Long Sexcapade Dramedy
I, and I think most of America, would not like to see John McCain attempt to capture America's lust for shows such as Desperate Housewives, Swingtown, Grey's Anatomy. Yeah, I think we're all just better off imagining The Mac is "firmly" in the Bob Dole Camp on that one. Pun Intended.



Note, Disclaimer, Hopeful Prevention of Encouraging Any Sort of Political Debate in My Comments Section: This was just a joke. It's when people get serious about politics, foresaking all lightheartedness or for that matter, reason, that people get hurt. It was not my intention to offend McCain fans, Obama fans, Bob Barr's fan, network television fans, reality show stars, or anyone except those who regularly watch The Ghost Whisperer. God burned down their studio for a reason people, let it go. Change the channel. I'm sure you can find a CSI rerun.