January 19, 2009 (updated)

John Long — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 16:51:35 +0000

Eating ham & beans to build strength for bashing Bush

THE BUSH BASH INAUGURAL BALLZ

Well, dear readers, I’ve reached some conclusions about my Inaugural Ballz party, having been too exhausted to do much else but contemplate my bellybutton since then.
One conclusion I reached quickly: the beans and ham must have been pretty good because six quarts of the stuff and a dozen cornbread muffins plus a 9″ pan of “cake” cornbread was consumed in a relatively short time. I generally like stews and especially beans and ham on the second day even better than freshly cooked, but there were quite simply no leftovers from this effort.

BECAUSE I SAID SO

The Bush Bashing itself had a kind of “magical” effect on the participants, it seems. Everyone noted how satisfying and refreshing it felt to unload on the Worst. President. Ever. As much as I dislike violence for any reason at any time, firing off a 20-shot clip of BBs from a CO2 pistol seemed to bring a sense of closure to the past 8 years. Later, I learned I had actually invited a registered Republican who declined to participate, saying she wouldn’t do such a thing to Obama’s image if the shoe was on the other foot. The rest of us looked at her as if she were Martian (and belching methane?). I suppose that comes from dating above my social stratum and station in life. I thought we might burn the life-sized image of “The Decider”, but the closest we came was the efforts of two of the participants to use cigarets to burn out the eyes of the object of their political and partisan opprobium.
UPDATE: Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who threw shoes at a mock Bush nor were we the only ones with anti-Bush emotions yet to be fully vented, because Newsweek found others at Dupont Circle in D.C.
Those so inclined to attend parties but not participate in more action-oriented folly repaired to the television room to watch the 1962 masterpiece Manchurian Candidate with Frank Sinatra, Laurence Harvey and the chilling performance of Angela Lansbury.
The card game in a third room became a tutorial for novices rather than the hard-nosed fight between seasoned veterans that I expected. Special thanks to Oz for leading the seminar.
Of course, there was also the animated discussions that go on in the kitchen — I’m not sure why kitchens become the focus of animated talking at almost every party I go to, but they do.
As for me, the moving of chairs, tables, etc., plus the rigors of shopping, cleaning and cooking have left my lower back in pain. I also don’t know about anyone else, but I was still so stoked and jittery after the party that I started the cleanup immediately so I wouldn’t have to face chaos first thing the next morning and didn’t get to bed until the wee early hours of the morning. This explains in part why you’ve waited until now for my report.

SINATRA SPEAKS

A cool cat with blue eyes. Call him Sinatra

Muffy, he’s lost his mind. First, I have no idea why he would have such a fixation with “Ballz”. I’ve done quite nicely without mine for sometime now and his only seem to make him more crazy more often. There wasn’t a room in the house to hide where there weren’t people with dog smells on them. What really mixed me up, though, was some guy in the flickering noisemaker room who smelled like at least an entire pride of lioncats. There were wonderful smells and plenty of people in the food room and no one, NO ONE!, fed me even once. I can only guess they were all out of their minds. Now that it’s all over, I’m in a real dilemma: when I stake out the water hole in the back yard, the birds stay in the trees; when I climb the trees, they go to the water hole. I’m trying a new strategy, Muffy. I’m sitting on the fence.

Blogblah!!! » Mars

January 19, 2009 (updated)