Bachmann Turn Tail Overdrive

Today came the news that Michelle Bachmann was not going to run for another term in Congress come 2014. Incidentally, it was also announced today that Ms. Bachmann has a court date in Iowa. I tend to shy away from writing about politics. Talking about politics is another matter, but writing about it gives me no satisfaction. With this story, however, as I listened to news segment after news segment today, I thought not about conservatism, Tea Party shenanigans, Creationism vs. Evolution, Muslim Brotherhood infiltrating top echelons of our government, a veritable who’s who list of anti-American politicians in Washington (read: anyone who doesn’t fall into goosestep with Bachmann and her Tea Party types); instead, I kept thinking about statistical possibilities.

The voice of reason in my house is my fiancée. As for me, I linger somewhere between lefty liberal agenda and fair weather anarchism. So, when Michelle Bachmann announced that eight years is enough I balked at her public service announcement while my other half say it was for the best because Bachmann could never win a higher office (i.e. the Presidency). We went back and forth about how sincere the PSA by Bachmann was and we both agreed that sincerity and PSAs by politicians rarely go hand in hand. I was convinced (and I still am) that this was this oldest trick in the book that goes like this: by virtue of announcing that one is through with politics they are in essence readying themselves for a higher calling than the office they serve. Welcome to the Doublespeak Dome.

Anyway, back to statistical probabilities. I stand by my position that Michelle Bachmann and the statistical probability of her running for President (provided she gets past her date with the law in Iowa) is greater than my chance of getting hit by a bus and but less than the chance that we are living in a computer-generated holographic universe, perhaps one of many–not that we get to live in more than one, but that there may be more than one universe created not by the God Bachmann believes in but by some savvy techie nerd sitting in his room right now scratching his balls and contemplating how it may be time to reformat the old hard drive but that would mean wiping out the universe/universes he’s created and in essence obliterating life, such as it can be defined, as we know it; likewise, the chance that we will see the release of a Bachmann 2.0 is greater than my chance of winning the lottery (which reminds me I have to check the tickets in my wallet in case, you know, I am a winner) but less than my chances of being assassinated by a Syrian good squad.

My fiancée thinks I am crazy. To wit, I say nay. Crazy is Michelle Bachmann calling the gay and lesbian lifestyle as and I quote “personal enslavement.” Crazy is stating something about waving a “tar baby” in the air, whatever that means, and calling on “the media” to perform an in-depth expose about Congress and finding out who’s “pro-American” and who’s “anti-American.”

One last statistical probability: The chance that Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin will retire to the wilds of Alaska or Wyoming (don’t ask. It’s the first state that came to mind) and live out their days as a same-sex couple is equal to or greater than the probability that I will be picked for a one-way mission to Mars where I will be among the first Earthlings to be buried on alien soil when my time is up. In other words, the future is anyone’s guess.

Far F***ing Out, Man!

There are 18 days left until the election. Tempers are flaring, people on both sides of the political fence are chomping at the bit, desperate to have their voices heard, to exercise their right as citizens to vote in a democratic and free election, to see their candidate in office, to turn the tide of our collapsing economy, to ensure that America rises from the ashes of the ruin it has become (ok, this might be a bit harsh); more now than ever before we are sick and tired of being bombarded by multi-million dollar ad campaigns, of neighbors turning vicious over silly signs in yards, of friends deleting friends on Facebook over liking a candidate’s page; anger and resentment fill our days and nights, talking points have become sacred texts we regurgitate on social media; and for all of this, when we close our eyes, we can feel it: the center will not hold. It is an exciting time in history, but this blog, today, is not about that.

I should preface this by saying my 12 year old son put me up to this. One day we were watching Ancient Aliens on the History Channel and this guy popped up on the television screen:

 My son and I watch this program from time to time, duped into the various episodes; never allowing for one cold hard fact: proof positive of extraterrestrial intelligence would make headlines news around the world; or as one scientist, whose name escapes me now, was quoted as saying: show me the UFO muffler that falls out of the sky and I will believe.

So, there we were last week, watching yet another episode of Ancient Aliens. Mr. Tsoukalos appeared on the screen and I mumbled something about his hair. To wit, my son chided me: you should write about that in your blog.

“Did human hairdressers create that look?” I said, invoking the narrator’s voice from Ancient Aliens. “Or was there some outside perhaps otherworldly influence involved?”

I mean no disrespect to Giorgio Tsoukalos; nor do I mean to mar the good name of History Channel’s Ancient Aliens. Sometimes, it takes children to force us to take a moment to breathe, to forget the ills of the world, to pull us out of our own heads and see what life is really worth. And if I have offended UFO and alien enthusiasts, or the over 57,000 diehard Twitter followers of Mr. Tsoukalos, by poking fun of that anti-gravity hairdo (to say nothing of the Mangerine tan he sports), then I offer my most humble apologies.

My intention was not misbegotten. If in reading this post you forgot about the political morass that is the 2012 Presidential Campaign for the minute or so it took you to read this post, then my work is done.


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