Has Boobs, Reads Comics: Batman hanging laundry

Has Boobs, Reads Comics: Batman hanging laundry

Baked Alaska

There's something very humbling about being confined to the air-conditioned house, car or frozen food section. Control freaks from the Midwest to the East coast are scrambling to realphabetize their soup cupboards and refluff all the accent pillows in the house because this heat wave is about to knock their totally matched socks off.

But, despite the chafing on my inner thighs and the symmetrical lines of Bobby Brown's "Summer Glow" blush flowing down my cheeks like toffee/mauve lava, I'm kind of enjoying this little bit of oppression.

It gives weathermen the opportunity to use catchphrases like "death-dealing heat." It gives old people a free ride to the meat-locker cold mall when their AC craps out. It provides all of us--men and women--the license to use the phrase "schwetty balls" without fear of being fired or sued by SNL. City kids get to do the age-old city thing of busting open a fire hydrant and splashing around in the lukewarm water. We just hope they're not still holding onto their PlayStation 2 controllers while they do it. This heat wave is something to talk about besides what we see on the news.

Tonight I might sit on my porch with only a glass of iced tea to keep me cool and play backgammon with my neighbors on the next stoop. Talk about how the Yankees are leading the division. How Old Man Jenkins opened up the Sip and Slurp for one hour today and let the kids make their own sundaes because everything was melting. I'm not going to read the paper but instead I'll read a book. We'll say, "Ooooo, but it's hot," but we won't go back inside until we've seen a dozen fireflies. We'll turn off our cell phones and turn on some "Prairie Home Companion," and we'll lean back in our seats and fantasize about Lake Wobegon in February.

Or May.

The Fall of the American Empire

I admit, not a very merry topic but after a very intense, very worldly discussion on the state of the union last night, I'm compelled to think that the a gradual sliding of the old U S of A into either ocean would be okay at this point. A friend of mine described a two-minute exchange in a grocery store parking lot that validated my theory:

During this brief moment, one representative of our failing nation coddled her 11-year old, drove an expensive gas-guzzling car, yelled, taunted and put emaciated "good looks" above intelligence, compassion and good will. This representative imagined herself superior to my friend only because my friend was driving her beat-up van (not HER Mercedes stationwagon) and because this stick insect had starved her way into a double-digit weight. Viva l'anorexia!!

Now imagine this woman reproducing 200 million times. Though the idea of her ankles swelling 200 million times is appealing to me, the spread of this germ of ME-ness rather than US-ness is very disturbing. I learned yesterday that Asian and Indian math/science grads outpace ours 4 to 1. Solar energy research in the UK puts ours to shame--and they only have sun 4 days a year. Our child mortality rate is 44, somewhere behind Yugoslavia. We still spend more than 50% of our budget on the military even though our arsenal (of Cold War era weapons) could blow up a dozen Earths.

I wonder when Egypt was on its way out, or when the massive Roman Empire was in decline, if the people sat on their stoops (or pyramid steps) and thought, "This place is going to the afterlife in a handbasket." Or if, like most Americans, their status at number one was something held so near and dear, something so "inalienable," that they believed right up until the very end that no one could touch them.

The good news--and there always will be on this blog--is that maybe the crumbling of our own country will encourage more Americans to get out and see the world. Live somewhere else, travel to places that require a passport. Sadly, I think we're so far gone that any incovenient truth, any major disaster could only bring us together for a moment and then we'd be back to our old, tragic, self-defeating ways.

No, I think the American Empire is at an end and I'm looking for the next Empire to latch on to. Somewhere with mango trees, a brewery in my town, schools where the teachers still teach HUCK FINN--even if they teach it in Spanish--and restaurants where the drinking water doesn't come from the same bucket as the dishwater, sunshine that warms and powers, a soccer team that doesn't headbutt or lie down when they get a hangnail, politicians who really are for the people and of the people, and a spirit of constant improvement that doesn't require constant destruction.

In short, the moon.

Or Costa Rica.

Testosterone injections in sports

Not that I think injecting anything into our athletes is a good idea and testosterone is the last thing I think athletes should be taking, but today's news DOES bring up a topic that I think has the potential to be very merry.

Estrogen injections.

Just like the rest of the crappiness in the world--war, violence, rape, Frenchmen head-butting Italians-- inequity in sports is largely due to testosterone already. Not only do male sports figures get paid more and get more exposure than women (though that will always be the case), its this rage, this incredible desire to kill the opponent, not just beat him, that makes sports so dicey.

Wouldn't it be nicer if instead of celebrating players smacking each other hard, and painfully, on the ass, they squeezed? Or even better said, "Dawg, I think all those squats in the gym have paid off. Your bottom is so perky." If instead of boxers vowing to--and at times succeeding--bite off his opponents ears, he hit only in the stomach to make sure that no future brain injury or tooth loss would ensue. If they considered that his opponent probably didn't have dental insurance, because it's so expensive and hard to get it even though we ALL should have it since gingivitis is the leading cause of all tooth decay, wouldn't sports be a better place?

Less anger, less aggression, less blood, fewer injuries. More compliments, more goals let in (just to be nice), better outfits that bunched less around the thighs. I love it. I'm going to call the MLB today and see if they'd consider adding estrogen to their LONG list of legal injectable drugs.

** The only sport I think should be barred from using estrogen is soccer. They're pansies enough already.

For Owen

I'm not sure if it was the furry meat grown in a laboratory or his response to my long and exceptionally colorful email about Ben and Jerry's/responsible military spending, but Owen convinced me today that I should have a blog. For a long time, I thought blogs were those celery sticks with peanut butter and raisins on them. I was wrong.

So, after giving 45 seconds of thought to what I wanted my blog to be, I decided on one concept that we don't see so much today and certainly one few ants on a log---er, blogs--- are dedicated to.

Being merry.

For me, it's easy. It's so much who I am, it's part of my name...

So, while I am a constant bitcher in real life about politics, bad drinking water, preservatives, the harsh side of Velcro, microwaved food, Republicans, sock-eating dryers, the use of "love missile" in any so-called literature, Hummers, canned laughter and both smart and dumb bombs, this blog will be about the GOOD things we see every day.

Hey, someone's gotta do it and I think Bill O'Reilley already has a day job.

PS If anyone hates this idea, please contact Owen Johnson (www.existence.com) at your earliest convenience.