Mañana, I'll be another footnote in history.

caveat emptor, morons

I was talking to an old buddy of mine yesterday. Guy I knew in the service. He told me he was on the fence about Barry. Like he might not vote for me, even. 

I was blown away.

He said "Look, Jammy ... " - that was my nick name back in '63, I can't remember why - "Jammy, this whole Ayers thing you guys dragged up made me think. And I don't like what I'm thinking about you. It's just ... too ugly. Why sling mud when half the fucking country's in some loopy spin every paycheck?"

So I levelled. I brought out the big guns. "You know he's black, right? I mean, doesn't anyone see this? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills here. Okay, so he's technically half black, but he married a fully black woman. That's like 3/4 black. Math doesn't lie."

He hung up. Moron. If you vote for Barry, you deserve him, asshole.

Nevermind

So looks like Charlie talked to the police chief, and they're going to release the photos back to me and they're not going to file a report or anything. Jesus, that was close.

So, either forget about the post below or send me a letter about how to erase it or something. Thanks.

What price on privacy?

I did nothing wrong. I stand by that. This is just ... incredible, that this would be such a big deal in our country today. This isn't the country I grew up in; it is unpatriotic to treat people the way the media will be treating me over this 'incident'.

Friends, this is America: I have fought against raising the federal minimum wage. I have fought against putting trees, air, and earth above giving people jobs that fill their lungs with glorious, American polution. I fought for six years as a POW. And I'm fighting now for privacy - the privacy of all Americans to place nude photos of themselves in their vehicles. I know what fear feels like: to have the officer say "Open the trunk, please Mr McCain." And, if elected, I promise to pass legislation that sends a clear message to those fat cats down at the capital: self-pornography can safely be stored in our cars, in our office desks, and in our wallets.

Isn't that what America is about?

Troopergate, it's a sham

News from Alaska is coming in about Sarah's iron fisted reign to control spending, curtail global warming and corral those pesky state troopers. My friends, my running mate was looking out for all Alaskans when she and Todd tried to can that bozo. Alaskitonians didn't need some hothead out on the beat with an ax to grind with the governor. Kind of a chunk, anyway. Don't we need some sort of weight limit before we hire these guys? Can't stop a caribou poacher if you can't run more than 20 feet past your patrol car anyway, fatass.

Well, it's almost lights out here in the McCruiser, so tuck in and sleep well knowing that I'm here, fighting for America.

Look out, Barry

Oh, you know the latest hardball ads we've been running? They're nothin'. Barry, are you listening? I'm coming for ya.

I had the wierdest dreams last night

I had the wierdest dream last night. I was back in a Skyraider squad, and we were flying over the water. In my dream, I had a cell phone and called Sarah. I knew it was her, but she was pretending to be someone else. I told her to knock it off, and she eventually admitted it. But then she started questioning me about an interview I did last month. She accused me of misrepresenting her in my quotes, and was going to sue my ass off about it. It took her a long time to calm down, and then it abruptly ended in chatting up Todd. Weird, huh?

Thing is Sarah totally scares the shit out of me. Last week I knew she needed to swing by my office to talk about something. I just couldn't deal with it, and I hid in the fucking bathroom. I think she knew I was in there, but after a while she left. I know I should have said something, but, I mean, I just couldn't deal. Jesus.

Honestly, I can't stand these PoliSci kids

I just was walking through my mobile HQ. We call that thing the McCruiser. It's basically a motorhome. Lots of people have commented on how many houses I have. Well, now that I've seen the inside of a motor home, it's like I'm a new man. I don't even want to win this election. I want to drive to Rushmore, and eat at Denny's. You know you can get a Grand Slam for under $10? Anywhere in the country? Jesus. It's mind-blowing.

Anyway, I was walking through the McCruiser and noticed a few of our speechwriters working on the acceptance speech for Sarah. I know, it's not in the bag, but what if we win? You can't write that thing the night before. It's like obituaries at newspapers, they prep them for all celebrities so they can print ASAP.

So anyway, they were arguing over how many 'doggoneits' and 'shucks', and one of them says 'Let's chart this up. I want to know what the doggoneit to total word count ratio is currently, and make sure we stick to it.'

So, that's what you're working on? Really? Fuck. No wonder we're losing in the polls. I'm completely surrounded by fucking nitwits.

Becoming "Internet Ready"

Whew, I have just recovered from staying up late to watch Sarah and Senator Biden spar in their debate, and I'm ready to learn how to "weblog". 

I can't make hide nor hair of all the "websites" that Sarah and her kids "visit", but now I've got my own "website" here! Shipoopi!