Reasons I didn't Post Sunday

There are many reasons for not writing in a blog on a regular schedule, not the least of which is that moment when one tries to disguise a grocery list as a humor piece. I haven't reached that point yet, but this week was close.

So Sunday, I didn't post. It's not that I didn't try. I tried writing about my child that turns into Moaning Myrtle whenever I ask her to do a chore. She complains, stomps her feet and then in a fit of inspiration, says, "I need to go to the bathroom." Then she disappears. But it turned out to be a one joke wonder.

Next, I tried to explore the issues of a brave new world, as my son who Never dances, not with his mother, sisters, Aunts or Grandparents, went to a Quincinera and danced the night away with a girl who ASKED him. I have tried to be respectful and not give him, as his best friends did, a new meaning for the words, Spanish Inquisition.

Then there's the fact that we threw a birthday party for my six year old. Her birthday date was actually 90 days ago, so this was her sixth year's birthday observed. We had a fairy princess party, complete with a castle and pin the tail on the unicorn and musical thrones (chairs with blankets thrown over them). Rain put the kebash on flying races outside but otherwise, they had a great time except when the birthday girl got mad when she didn't win musical chairs. She stomped out of the room and into the closet and slammed the door. Letting my oldest take over the music and running of the games, I went to fetch the very sad Tinkerbell. "I hate musical chairs! I never win at anything!" She sulked.

"You're being a bad sport."
"I want to be a bad sport."

"Fine, then you'll miss the rest of the games." I shut the door and went back to the party. One of the parents there gave me a look. "She's crying." I explained.
They looked shocked. "It's her party and she'll cry if she wants to."

Five minutes later, The Birthday Princess Fairy Tinkerbell returned to play Duck Duck Goose.

Lastly, I have taken on the Fall Carnival at my kids' school. The day of the Festival? My due date for number 9.

Why?

Motivationally, it's really fun. Who is going to say they are more busy than me?
It's a compelling arguement. Even my pastor called to say, "Sherry, this certifies that you are insane."

It also allows me to preemptively get my hours for the school taken care of via summer meetings and planning. So, if you're in the area, come to the school carnival on September 27th. It should be a lot of fun. I'll try to write a whole piece for Tuesday.

Best wishes on a great week folks.
Sherry

When Hillary and Barrack Kiss and Make Up, the Place's the The Thing!

Oh, the symbolism of it all moves me to near tears.

Hillary and Obama, together in the town of Unity, embraced, showing forgiveness. All is well. Surely, because we see it on television, it must be true.

What is not known is that Unity was chosen after several other towns were struck from the list of possibilities wherein this historic meeting of the titans for peace could take place.

Hell for Certain, KY: It wasn’t frozen over so it got dumped pretty quick.

Desperation, Ohio: The McCain camp had booked it for a youth rally.

Defeated, TN: Hillary camp said no way.

Sour Grapes, MI: The Other Half of the Delegates threatened to show up and ruin the mood.

Hope, Ark: The citizens of this town have suffered enough.

Bullhead, AZ: The township’s monicker strikes a little close to the bone. Ditto for
Squabbletown, California, The X, Mass, and Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.

Still, Hillary urged her supporters to vote for Barrack and I for one, could feel the love. I mean, I’m sure she feels as much when she’s around Bill.

Obama for his part, acknowledged that maybe mentioning that he’d remodel the bowling alley to make a basketball court was a bit premature. After all, he does need to work on that game. He also promised never to mention Erkel again. It just brings out the heebie jeebies in voters everywhere.

He also explained that the mock presidential seal that had appeared in front of his podium, was the result of a vast right wing conspiracy designed to portray him as an aloof argula eating Harvard educated lawyer with only 2 years Senate experience who thinks there are 57 states. "Just remember," urged his supporters, "he’s unstoppable, he’s beautiful, he can do no wrong."

The happy couple has stops planned in the coming weeks at No Mirage, California, Utopia, Florida, Neverfail, Tennessee, and Allgood, Alabama.

Bill was sent on a separate good will tour. He plans on stopping in Lovely Ladies, New Jersey, and some other places that actually exist but this is just not that type of blog.

P.S. All these towns exist except for two.

Tune in next week when we discuss theme music. Just as the Clintons in 92 asked for a leap of faith with their song, "Don't Stop Believing," Obama currently is in search of a song that will convey the promise of perfection without getting nailed down on any pesky specifics.

Nominations for the theme song of the presidential campaign include "Don't Worry, Be Happy," "The Candy Man," and the Coca-cola theme from the 70's commercial, "I'd like to buy the world a coke." These express best, the DNC's current platform and policies for macroeconomics, universal health care and take on foreign policy matters and issues of homeland security.

My Take On George Carlin's Death

I like George Carlin for the most part. I have always found him provocative, but not always honest. My biggest beef with the deceased? Whenever anyone complained about his jokes being offensive, he'd sideslip by explaining, "They're just words." To say they're just words is to deny the potency of their effect. If they were just words, and had no meaning save what the listener ascribed, anyone could be a writer or a comic or a playwright and make money because no one would be able to discern a good writer/creative genius from a bad one --because good and bad would be purely relative terms with no underpinning criteria.

Words do mean something. If they didn't, humor wouldn't have the effect it does. He understood the power of words, that's why his piece on the seven words you can't say is so very powerful. Someone who wrot lik thes wod b as gooder as someone who could express themselves without errors. Someone who messed up the punch line would be as successful as Jerry Seinfeild, as order of words would not matter, only that sounds issued forth. Indeed, chimps would be as successful at writing or stand up, as actual words would no longer be necessary.

Words matter. George knew it. But the common defense against criticism by anyone is "I didnt mean it or it didn't mean anything." As though intent or ascribed intent determines offense. While it is a convenient arguement, that's not the way truth or humor for that matter, works. Intent does not determine laughter. I meant for you to laugh --does not mean you must. Intent not to offend does not determine whether or not something is offensive. And George knew this. The seven words speech was designed to be both offensive and funny. It wouldn't be funny if it weren't also discussing the offensive.

What I have seen a lot of in recent internet discourse, is idea of the meeting between George Carlin and the Almighty. Those who liked his humor view God and George having a sit down and a few laughs maybe over a beer. Those who found him offensive, view George as having a bit of a warm seat.

Do I think George has been excluded from the realm of the Divine because he swore? No. Do I think he probably has some explaining to do...absoultely, but then, don't we all?

And do I think George is going to try pulling...they were only words up there? Probably not. Not with the Author of the Word. At least, not if he's as smart as I always thought he was...God has a sense of humor too. It explains apendixes, mosquitos and first dates. It explains George Carlin too. George will get his moment to feel as those who sometimes felt uncomfortable at his humor under the great mercy and justice and love of God.

God will probably explain how "just words" have an effect to George or at least require him to own up to actual reality. George will agree. Then they will have a few laughs, maybe over a beer.

George probably won't use those seven words though.