So I exercised my God-given right, guaranteed by the Declaration of Independence, to vote today – shirtless – just as the Indians did back when they were voting for president hundreds and hundreds of years ago.
I’m telling you, though – they always manage to nail you with those stupid “I Voted” stickers on the way out, don’t they?
Now if someone can just help me get it off my back.
IT OCCURS TO ME when I recently complained about all of those pointless political flyers I’d received in the mail (final tally: a ludicrous seventy-eight!), yet expressed amusement and delight with one of Brad Sherman’s mailers attacking Howard Berman, you might have misinterpreted my fondness for the ad as an endorsement of Sherman himself.
No, no, a thousand times no!
(It also occurs to me that my, what, six readers, none of whom likely reside in Southern California, have any interest in a local political race. Yet here I go again.)
So in the interest of fairness – and, brother, if life were fair, neither of these jackasses would be running for office - in the interest of fairness, I offer what I have determined to be an accurate cross-section of the surprisingly disparate Brad Sherman voter demographic, courtesy the back page of that same flyer.
Who’s Voting for Brad Sherman?
1. Ethnically vague nap-sacked hermaphrodites
2. Retired organ grinders
3. Undocumented capybaras
4. Carmen Zapata circa “Villa Alegre”
5. Bobby Hill
6. Deep Roy
7. Fundamentalist Mormon sister-wives
8. Julian Assange
So there you have it. We’re all even-steven now.
Here’s today’s mail. …Oh my.
Magnificent. Even if ’72 is a little early for the disco angle.
Okay, I’m still not going to vote for either of these guys for Congress. But if Brad Sherman was nominated for Best Withering Political Attack Ad Campaign On Annoying Oversized Flyers That No One Ever Reads, he’d be on stage thanking the Academy tonight.
They’ve developed bed linens for people who hate changing their sheets!
“Honey, I was really hoping you would help us trim the tree this year – so we can do it together, as a family. And guess what – I picked up a special ornament just for you!”
“Shut up, Mom! Can’t you see I’m busy?!”
HEY, this is perfect for you! You love this show! Look what I found for you!
You can dress up as Glee! You can be Glee for Halloween!
Which reminds me of a funny anecdote!
As you know my father was a Carpenter First Class. Now he’s a Carpenter (Retired).
During the summer when I was a kid, I would work with him on his jobs. And by “work with him,” I mean of course stand around, get in the way and whine a lot.
Dad loved the show “Get Smart” and often he’d regale me with entire plots – complete with jokes – from specific episodes that he’d enjoyed. But he never referred to the main character as “Maxwell Smart” or “Max” or “Agent 86″ or even “Don Adams” or, I don’t know, “the secret agent guy” or anything like that.
Oh no. He always called him “Get Smart” as though the title of the show was the main character’s name.
He could remember 99 but not 86?! They’re both numbers!
Or is it “Roo8iü”…?
I enjoy Google’s silly little “Doodles” as much as the next person, and I really like the style of this one…but c’mon, how hard is it to design monsters that look like the letters they’re supposed to represent?
By the way, no, of course I couldn’t do any better, and yes, it’s easy for me to criticize because I’m kind of a jerk.
When refinancing your home, don’t go with the first deal you find.
Drive around and compare offers.
You might find a bush on the next corner with an even better rate.
So I was at Big Lots the other day looking for a dented barbecue grill with chipped paint and missing hardware…
Anyway, I happened across these things:
…And it occurred to me that the reason the shelves are so full is that in this neighborhood, most girls have already had their first baby!
WE’RE UP TO 47.
That’s the current tally of mailbox-jamming political ads and flyers I’ve received so far over the last few weeks.
It may not seem like much, but considering every single one is on thick, almost cardstock-like paper, none smaller than 8-1/2 X 11″ (and most of them were at least that size folded - they opened up even larger), and I have a post office box that I don’t check but once a week if that, this is indeed quite a lot. Especially for an apathetic voter such as myself who prides himself on staying as uninformed as possible.
When I’ve gone to collect my mail these things have been crammed in there tighter than the delicious salty, hairy fish in a can of Haddon House rolled anchovies with capers – and pulling them out was similarly messy and left me feeling just as dirty.
By the way, candidates, if you’re listening…? I read virtually none of your ads. This was the one exception:
An ambitious little brochure – eight pages long – it’s laid out as a children’s book with adorable illustrations showing Congressman Howard Berman enjoying the perks of being a US Representative by spending taxpayers’ money.
I have to hand it to Brad Sherman, Howard Berman’s opponent for the congressional seat: I really loved this flyer; it’s delightful.
Oh, by the way, despite the clever political ad, I don’t actually like Sherman, so neither Berman nor Sherman will be getting my much sought-after vote – or since I don’t have to show photo ID – votes. Me, I’ll be voting for a different candidate entirely.
Anyway, the volume of political mail from this election cycle must be doing wonders for the near-bankrupt USPS. Why, I’ll bet we won’t see another rate increase for at least another couple weeks!
SEEMS it never rains in Southern California, the song goes, it pours. Right after you’ve put up a yard sale sign with ink that’s going to run.
Still, we can read it and “Everything Brand New In Box” might imply a marriage that imploded right after the wedding. However, most of the merchandise is pluralized, so we must assume there are multiples of each, and therefore perhaps we’re dealing with goods that, eh, fell off a truck. So to speak.
And speaking of plurals, there are hundreds of thousands of people on the internet better, smarter, wittier than me who get angrier than I do and can work themselves up into an indignant yet snarky froth over unnecessary apostrophes. I’m not going to even attempt to match their brilliance. I’ll save my anger for reasonable things, like being the only person in the world who ever got a parking ticket.
Yet I’m still left wondering why “iron’s” and nothing else?