Tag: Indiana (Page 2 of 2)

Put On Your Rally Hats

The last time I attended a political rally was in 1992. I figured I was overdue, so I checked out Barack HUSSEIN Obama’s visit to Indianapolis Saturday. The Senator visited in advance of the May 6 Indiana primary, which given the closeness of the Democratic nomination race, is suddenly very important. Here are some observations and thoughts.

The event took place at a high school on the far west side of Indianapolis, near the airport, and was open only to people who had a ticket. I got one by being on the senator’s e-mail list. So nyah nyah nyah!

I ended up sitting by a woman in her late 40s, and since we had about two hours to kill, we talked a bit. Turned out she lives about three miles from me and is originally from St. Louis. We swapped stories about moving to Indianapolis, about her son and my daughters, and about what brought us to the event. Nice lady.

Just before Barack arrived, four African gentlemen took seats next to us. I know they were African because they mostly spoke French, and when they spoke English, they sounded like, well, West Africans. These guys were awesome. Think of when Prince Akeem goes to the Knicks game in <i>Coming to America</i>. At each applause line, all four jumped up, stomped their feet, and shouted, “YES!” They were feeling it!

Finally the Senator arrived and the place went crazy. The African fellows were really into the “Yes we can!” chant. I was seated about as far away from the stage as possible, although in the relatively small gym, I was probably 150 feet away. (Fuzziness in photo is from the distance and digital zoom.) It was interesting to see him in person after seeing him on TV so many times. Much of the stump speech was familiar to me. I always enjoy when politicians throw in lines for the local audience. As he was acknowledging the various labor unions present, he mentioned the boilermakers, which got a decidedly mixed response. He grinned, and said, “I was talking about the REAL boilermakers, but I know we have some Purdue folks here, too.” Pause for more mixed reaction. “But this is mostly IU country, right?” Huge cheers. I thought he was supposed to be a uniter!

After about a 15 minute speech, the floor opened up for a town hall style question session. I’ve heard often that he doesn’t do as well when he’s not working from a prepared text, and that was evident. It’s not he struggled, but you can see his mind working, making sure he’s hitting all his points. It’s also interesting to watch a politician answer a question by saying whatever he wants to say. That’s his job, after all. But I found myself thinking how a regular person would lose confidence at the end of such a response. “I don’t know if I answered your question or not,” is what many of us would say if we got away from the initial question. A politician, though, throws in an applause line and then moves on to the next question.

I went mostly to see him and be part of the event. I didn’t learn much that I didn’t already know. And given how sore my behind was from sitting on a wooden bench for 3.5 hours, you could say it was a monumental waste of time when I could have caught the highlights on the news. But I really wanted to be there. When you believe in a candidate, it’s easy to get swept up in the momentum of the campaign. I felt like it was important to be there, to show my support visibly. There’s an interesting energy at a political rally. You feel empowered. You feel a sense of community despite the wide diversity in the crowd. You wonder how anyone could think differently.

More than anything, I felt as though the rally was a refuge. I’m not living in a state where very many people share my mix of political views. Most Democrats here are rather conservative. I would characterize myself as a strong social liberal, which might as well make me a Marxist in Indiana (Which is ironic, since Marxism was extreme leftist economic policy, and I consider myself only slightly left of center on economic matters). I’m always reluctant to talk about politics outside a small group of friends and family who share my core beliefs. That isn’t because I prefer an echo chamber environment where my views are reinforced and validated, or because I can’t defend my views. Rather, it’s because I tend to see politics as akin to religion: if you believe strongly in something, it is deeply personal. While I have no problem lambasting conservative politicians and talking heads who are in the public eye, I do have a hard time arguing with friends, family, and other regular people who are on the opposite side of the political spectrum from me. I don’t want them telling me that I am wrong, when they know little about how I came to hold the beliefs I hold. So I certainly can’t feel comfortable criticizing their beliefs. Being around 2000 other people who shared at least a few core beliefs while hearing a man we believe can make our country a better place is tremendously empowering.

Leaving the rally, I was filled with an energy and excitement about the process. I’m not a bumper sticker person when it comes to politics, and I have a firm policy about not giving money to political candidates. But I’ve been thinking about making a small donation to the campaign after I get my next paycheck. As much as I liked Obama to being with, I like the fact that his campaign is largely fueled by small donors who are regular people like me. I figure I can sacrifice two albums on iTunes to make a tiny statement in support of what he’s doing.

Also, I saw a man at the rally who reminded me of Oscar Robertson, who is an Indianapolis native. He was the original Big O, you know. Oprah has endorsed Barack. Just think if Oscar, Oprah, and Obama were in the same room. I think we’d be a Greg Ostertag away from opening some kind of space-time portal.

Oh, one other tidbit. I was sitting right above the media area, so I could watch the row of TV cameras and mostly regional reporters working. Right in front of me though, was CNN’s <a href=”http://www.cnn.com/CNN/anchors_reporters/malveaux.suzanne.html”>Suzanne Malveaux</a>. All I’ll say is I was surprised at how much I enjoyed watching her work.

Dancing In The Streets

That’s what is happening all over the Middle East this morning. Why? Because the terrorists have won again. Yes, Indiana’s 7th congressional district elected a Muslim – a MUSLIM! – to represent them in the US House of Representatives for the next ten months. It’s a well documented fact that every single Muslim in the world has the exact same world and political view (Muslims never, ever fight each other), so surely this means our enemies are taking over our government. Al Queda had extended its tentacles to just a few miles from my home. I woke up at 3 AM today and wondered who is looking out for me, who is answering the phone now that this travesty has occurred? Surely terrorists are pouring into the Indianapolis airport this morning so they can set up shop all over Marion county. If Barack is elected….well…we can kiss our American asses goodbye. Because he’s a Muslim, too. And his middle name is Hussein. HUSSEIN! *

(For those who don’t know me, this post is loaded with sarcasm. Think of Stephen Colbert, only less funny.)

B-Town

I took a trip down to Bloomington today to get my bearings in advance of the spring semester. Two of my sisters-in-law who attended IU went down with me to help me find the places I needed to find. Parking is truly a hassle at IU, and I may just skip the whole parking pass thing and attempt to find spots in residential neighborhoods near campus. That could be a pain, but the nearest parking lot to the building my classes are in is almost two miles away. Ree-dick-you-lus. I guess I’ll be leaving a little earlier than I planned each Monday and Wednesday.
I went to the bookstore: of course my books weren’t in yet. I went to the J-school building and wandered around, finding my two classrooms and the graduate program office. I peeked into the computer labs and saw row and row of icy-new iMacs. Found a copy of the last student newspaper of the fall semester to bring home and review.
We had some fine Greek food for lunch, wandered about a few shops near campus, and then headed home. I’m looking at about an hour and 15 minute commute each way, so looks like I’ll be keeping up with my podcasts and NPR shows this spring.
Coming Thursday: my review of the year’s finest music.

Rough Weekend

I slept what seemed to be about 90% of the weekend. That may sound like great fun to many of you, but this wasn’t leisurely, comfortable sleep. This was sleep because my body couldn’t stay awake. There were many factors that could have caused this:

1) M. continued to teeth last week, with the added burden of fighting her first cold. She was up anywhere from 1-3 hours every night last week, in addition to just needing someone to come find her binky an additional 4-5 times a night.

2) Between M.’s issues and my own insomnia, I averaged about 3.5 hours of sleep last week. One night, when S. was working, M. went down quietly at 8:00. I went to bed at 9:00, thinking I would read until I got tired then try to steal some sleep before M.’s meds wore off. Naturally, it was 2:00 AM before I started to even feel a little tired, and the first time I slept into a light sleep was the moment M. started crying.

3) I started having flu-like symptoms Friday afternoon. They got worse Saturday through Sunday. Still haven’t been awake long enough to figure out how I feel today.

I slept something like 11 hours Friday night, with some interruptions from M., ten hours Saturday night, and another ten-plus hours last night. I took a two-hour nap Saturday. I took three naps Sunday. Why am I telling you all of this? Because I’ve got nothing to offer you this morning. Hopefully I’ll wake up in awhile and realize I feel better. Going to class on another 70+ day may help too. I’m avoiding tonight’s basketball game, so I’ll try to get something decent posted this evening.

One other note for my non-Indiana readers. We’re back on the equivalent of Central time now (Actually we’re still on Eastern Standard Time while most everyone else is on Daylight time). Keep that in mind when calling from Kansas City bars late at night. If the legislature and governor act as promised, we could be changing our clocks here in Indiana on June 5, and then every October and April as civilized societies should. More on that when it happens.

Royals-Tigers at noon on the Deuce!

Earthquake Weather

As the linked story relates, there was a small earthquake just south of Indianapolis yesterday. There’s nothing earth shattering in the article (get it, earth shattering???), but I had to share a nugget from the extensive coverage (slow news day) of the event on last night’s late local news. Contrary to what the IU geologist says in the Star article, another “expert” interviewed last night looked gravely at the camera and said, “It’s quite likely there will be a major earthquake in Indiana in the near future.” Naturally, he offered no evidence for his assertion nor did he put “near future” into perspective. Does he mean in the next ten years, or in the next 10,000 years?
No matter, I could hear the elderly, the sick, and people who just like to worry scampering out of their easy chairs and developing a plan to hoard water and food. “Agnes, the man on the television set said we’re going to have a major earthquake soon. Wake the kids! Make sure we have fresh batteries in all the flashlights! We’d better wrap the house in cellophane while we’re at it. It would be just like Al Queda to attack us when we’re trying to dig out of a quake.”
As an aside, I asked my wife where Shelby County was. She responded, “It’s wherever Shelbyville is.” I don’t get much help from her when I’m trying to learn my Indiana geography.

 

 

Why REO Speedwagon Rules

Nothing like an hour delay that causes you to arrive at home at 1:00 AM to really end the week with a bang. Oh, my bad. As loyal reader/poster E-bro in NoCal is headed to Israel for a work engagement, I’ve been instructed not to complain about air travel anymore. So be it.

It’s Formula One week in Indy and there is much consternation about how well attended the least regarded of the three major racing events at the Speedway will be this year. After several years of racing in September, the race was moved up this year to piggy back on the only other North American F1 race which took place in Montreal last weekend. That made me quite surprised to hear a group of about 15 people at the Phoenix airport talking about the race as we prepared to board our flight last night. And none of them were Euros. Who knew gear heads in this country followed European open-wheeled racing?

There are many reasons to choose an airline. Some will go for economics and take the lowest fare first. Others may travel to a few select destinations on a regular basis and choose a carrier based on who flies to those places most often. I like to build up miles, so I fly American on a regular basis. However, if you’re looking to book a flight based on quality of flight attendants, give America West a look. Very impressive.

Long time readers may recall the string of non-functioning automatic faucets I had in airports last year. I’ve now been cursed by always having the seat that won’t stay in the locked and upright position. There’s nothing like the sensation of your chair automatically leaning back at takeoff. I think it’s the sensation of knowing the person behind you is cursing your existence and plotting to kick, knee, and shove your chair as often as possible over the next three hours. We can send a man to the moon, but we can’t make airplane seats that work.

Readers who were members of the 80s Trivia List may recall my efforts to tape “Axel F” off the radio in the spring of 1985. I believe I stayed up until nearly 4:00 AM one Saturday night flipping constantly between Q-104 and ZZ-99 until I got the classic Harold Faltermeyer tune on tape. I don’t know if I’ve ever told of the night in 1981 when I sat in front of our stereo, with headphones on, trying to hear REO Speedwagon’s “Keep On Loving You”. I’m pretty sure the babysitter thought I was some freak child as I sat hunched over for hours, wading through Nugent and Styx and Journey until I could hear my song. I had the Yellow Pages in my lap, open to the radio stations page, debating whether to call in and request it (My first ever radio request came a year or so later, and I believe was Loverboy’s “Turn Me Loose”.) She was right, I am a freak. Why do I share this story (other than to give you more reasons to have fun at my expense)? Last night, on the way home from the airport, I heard that classic REO tune. I have to give them credit; they were very clever. They recognized they had a cheesy song. So they mixed things up. Rather than go verse-chorus-verse-chorus-solo-chorus, Kevin Cronin and the boys threw the very interesting verse-verse-chorus-solo-bridge-chorus at us. No wonder it hit #1 on the pop charts! We’d never heard cheese served up like this before! I have a new found respect for REO. (Worth noting, REO’s classically titled Hi Infidelity was the album that knocked John Lennon’s Double Fantasy from the #1 spot after his death.)
What did you think of the audio blogging? Could everyone play the files? Waste of time?

Happy weekends to all, happy Father’s Day to the dads and prospective dads out there.

 

Finally Some New Action

What day is it anyway? I hate it when three day weekends come at the wrong time and totally mess up your routine. I’ve got a trip to Portland scheduled for next week, about a million things going on this week, and I have no idea where time went.

I’m watching the Seinfeld marathon on TBS Wednesday night and saw one of my all time favorite lines. In The Jimmy, Kramer is sharing how Dr. Whatley has turned his dental practice into an adults only office. “When they ripped that molar out, I let the expletives fly!” I’m hearing all about the Manssiere now. They just don’t make them like they used to, back when I was a kid, way back in the 90s.

A greatly edited accounting of Storm Sunday here in Indy. For the third straight summer holiday, we got slammed with bad weather. Last Fourth of July brought tornadoes and severe storms, followed by minor flooding. Labor Day brought 20 inches of rain in some parts of town. Now Memorial Day weekend is full of storms. Couldn’t have happened on a worse day, only like the biggest day ever in Indy or whatever. The World’s Biggest Single Day Sporting Event followed by an NBA playoff game. Instead of listening to the race (since it’s not carried on live television here) and watching the Pacers game, I spent at least four hours glued to the wall-to-wall coverage of the weather. Like the good Kansan I am, of course. We totally lucked out in our neighborhood. Although we could hear the sirens from across the county lines, we had nothing but torrential rains for about an hour. Very little wind, no hail, and no damage. There was supposedly a tornado spotted just five miles from our house, but the sirens never went off so I assume that was a mistaken sighting.

The southern half of the city wasn’t so lucky. As crowds left the Speedway and packed into the fieldhouse, huge storms battered the area from downtown to the south. News copters and traffic cameras showed funnel clouds, showed trees uprooted, a nursing home that had been ripped wide open, and houses that were destroyed. For someone who generally likes storms, seeing homes very similar to mine devastated was a sobering reminder of how quickly life can change. I was contemplating moving the Little Girlfriend’s room down to the basement so she never has to worry about trees crashing through the roof or her ceiling being ripped open.

I’m sad to say there are no weather personalities here that can rival Gary Lezak. He would have been going nuts with six hours of severe weather and a map lit up with warnings like election night results. Sure, we’ve got a weather hottie, but she’s more hot in the attractive mom way than the ridiculousness that can be found on Southern California newscasts. But she was out of action Sunday, and weather geeks were forced to deal with traditional, sober weathermen to guide us through the afternoon and evening.

Monday we visited some friends who had just moved into their new house over the weekend. Natasha’s mother asked if I had gone into the basement when the storms hit. “No,” I answered, “I’m from Kansas. I went outside and watched!” “We’re from Kansas too and we had one foot out the back door and the other down to the basement!” I heard a lot about Hoosier pride this weekend with the race, its surrounding events, and the playoff games. Apparently this is how Kansas pride manifests itself: bragging about being the last one into the basement when the sirens go off.

In other news, we now have diapers in our house. That really is the last step in preparation, isn’t it? Yeah, the changing table doesn’t get here for a few more days, we still have lots of day-to-day things to acquire, but when it comes down to it, once you have a crib, a few clothes, a couple functioning nipples (or stock of formula) and some diapers, you’re pretty much set if the kid decides to show up early.

Speaking of, S had her latest check up Tuesday and all continues to go well. We were really sure about positioning, so she asked her OB for a guess. He thought she is head down, although she tends to lay at an angle so her feet are over on the right side of S’s abdomen. Her favorite game now is to kick mommy’s ribs. She thinks it’s great fun! Mommy wishes she would either run out of room to move or just cut it out.

No good baby related conversations to share, although there was this gem from Tuesday that could have been kid influenced. S had been having a bit of a rough day and when ESPN flashed a shot of Tayshaun Prince during the Pacers-Pistons game, she let loose, “I just hate him. He looks like such a whiny little baby all the time. WAAAAAAHHHH!” Wow! This from someone who hadn’t watched much of the series and had probably never seen Prince in her life before the previous week. For my readers not familiar with Prince, he’s Detroit’s 6’8”, 125 small forward. He makes Reggie Miller look buff. He has a rather unfortunate complexion (lots of lingering acne), a spotty beard, and in general just isn’t an attractive cat. But he hits just enough three pointers and plays just enough defense to be a solid NBA player.

You all know I’m a geek, so I don’t mind sharing stories like this. I have recently become fascinated by the birds that entertain us on a daily basis. I’ve got my buddy the cardinal who is always flitting around just outside our kitchen window. Actually, I saw two males out there Wednesday, and saw a female for the first time in a long time as well. As a part of my fascination, I made two realizations: A) My daughter needs to know what the birds are called B) I’m a city kid and can name about five birds. So, using the free points I had accumulated in the book club I’m a member of, I ordered a bird guide. If that wasn’t bad enough, now I’ve totally geeked out and spend hours, well dozens of minutes anyway, staring out the windows trying to identify the birds and take pictures of them. The cardinal(s) are visible each day. Like most of you, we have robins out the ass. Grackles take over our yard each evening. Wednesday, a flock of Chipping Sparrows spent the better part of an hour enjoying our collection of bugs. One of the trees in our front yard has berries on it, so I’m hoping I can catch some more interesting birds there soon. I’m also working on picking just the right kind of bird feeders to put in the backyard so I can keep them coming. Like I said, geek.

Big Pig

Warning: some slightly graphic, suggestive language below. All meant in fun, of course.

The final wedding of Summer Matrimony Fest 2003 is finally out of the way. Another grand occasion highlighted by impressing the locals with consuming large quantities of fine scotch (Glen Fiddich, 18 year old model). However, I did have to miss the Indiana State Fair to attend the wedding.

Normally, I’m not much of a state fair guy. I think I last attended one when I was three or four and didn’t have much say in the matter. It did seem like a good time to attend, though, and get a better feel for my new home. I’ve heard about deep fried Twinkies for weeks. I dreamt of the smells of real corn dogs, cotton candy, and kettle corn assaulting my nose. Avoiding “cow patties” and “horse pies” is always entertaining for us city folk. But most of all, I missed seeing the World’s Largest Hog.

A Yorkshire Hog named Statesman won this year’s largest boar competition, weighing in at a massive 1,227 pounds. Sounds like a lot of bacon to me. I was so intrigued I actually read three articles on this magnificent beast. Turns out Statesman hails from Seymour, IN. If John Cougar Mellencamp hadn’t been born in that noble ville, Statesman would be Seymour’s claim to fame. He was raised by Top-Line Genetics, who despite the name, claim he has been fed nothing but ground corn, soybean meal, and farm fresh greenery. That’s some damn good corn!

So what kind of satisfaction does one get from raising a half-ton hog? Prize money? Sure, the owners walked away with $450. They also spend roughly $700 a year to feed him, so clearly the monetary award is not the motivation. A faithful companion? I doubt Statesman is allowed to lounge in the living room like those scary little Vietnamese pigs some people keep as house pets. Poor guy can’t even really stud, given his immense size. Or so I thought. Turns out Statesman has somewhere between 3,000-4,000 piglets to his name. If he wasn’t already bursting at the seams, I bet he would be with pride of his genetic domination of southern Indiana. So how does this monster father enough offspring to keep Sicily in sausage for a year? When in doubt, consult the Daily Show. A few years back, Beth Lilleford filed a classic report on hog farming. The highlight of the report was her hands-on investigation of how pig semen is, well, harvested I guess. Like me, she assumed there was some fancy “device” that took care of the process. Something like those suction tubes that milk cows in the modern world. Well there is a special “device” that handles the act, and it’s called a human hand. That’s right, in order to breed pigs, these lucky porkers get a hand job from Mrs. Farmer Brown.

Jim Rome often talks about the self-esteem of the woman who is asked to Windex the pole in a strip club at the end of each night. Just a guess, but I’m thinking if you spend your day jerking pigs off, you’re probably not A) filled with huge amounts of good feelings about where you are in life and B) bragging about your job to your friends. Unless there’s some special technique involved that requires intense training, I would imagine we’re talking minimum wage here, and sliding down a brass pole for two grand a night doesn’t seem so bad.
“We’ve sold a lot of semen on him in the past,” Statesman’s owner told the Indianapolis Star. If that’s not one of the top five quotes of all-time, I don’t know what is. All this made me realize that like everything else in the world, the state fair has lost its sense of innocence. I always thought the pig contests were created for happy little farm boys and farm girls in 4H who spent the winter getting up early to feed and clean their favorite boar. They looked forward to the summer, hoping to get him up to 200-300 pounds so they had a shot at the blue ribbon. The reward was a special pin on their 4H jacket, months of good eating, and the satisfaction of a job well done. Like every other competition, though, even state fair pig contests are now dominated by cold, faceless corporations. In the area of hog genetics, they use computerized nutrition programs to create super swine, 3-4 times bigger than normal hogs. When Bobby Jim and Jenny Sue from Hanover can’t expect to get within 900 pounds of the winner, isn’t something really wrong with our country? I’ll be anxious to see how this year’s Indiana gubernatorial candidates handle the issue.

Just something to think about at this year’s Pig Roast. Eat some ribs for me!

Da Mayor

The whole point of Weblogs (for those new to the concept) is to give people forums for instantly commenting on events. There are political blogs, where professional and amateur writers comment on events as they happen, often updating throughout the day. There are blogs that are used as diaries by regular people. If I see a really cool sunset, I’m supposed to run inside and let you know all about it. If I had access to a blog on April 8, I would be expected to pour my grief into the site for all to witness. So I’ve kind of missed the point by waiting a week to share this entry. But trust me, it took that long to digest and begin to make any sense of it. I’ve felt like Chandler Bing: “Too….many….jokes….”

Noblesville, IN mayor Dennis Redick was out for a fun night at the Verizon Wireless Music Center a week ago. Noblesville can best be compared to someplace like Liberty for the KC crowd: affluent, distant from the urban core, a little sleepy. We’re not talking about Watts, Oakland, or even Raytown here. Anyway, Da Maya took in the Jimmy Buffett concert with his live-in girlfriend, Sylvia Clemons. (I just noticed her last name. This is even better than I thought.) After an enjoyable evening of singing along to “Margaritaville” and “Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw?” the couple retired to their limousine. Details are sketchy, but something caused a ruckus, and before anyone knew what was going on, their idyllic night was shattered and the limousine driver was forced to pry the good mayor’s hands from the neck of Ms. Clemons. (Wow, I still am having trouble with that. Her name really is Clemons? He was choking her? It’s almost too much…)

Redick was arrested, charged with a couple misdemeanor charges of battery and domestic battery, spent the night in jail, and faced the world last Monday. He made sure everyone knew that he had neither asked for, nor received, any special treatment. Bravo. Ms. Clemons issued a statement stating she had started the altercation, and Mayor Redick was in fact holding her hands to stop her punches, rather than choking her. The Mayor’s ex-wife publicly stated her support for him, and added that in 30 years of marriage, he had never laid a hand on her.

Ahhh, but the mayor is a politician, and where there are politicians, there can also be found power struggles, old slights, and ambition. The county Republican Party quickly rescinded support for Redick in the upcoming general election. They vowed to support an independent candidate, which could come from a pool of several candidates he barely defeated in the recent primary. Democrats, seeing an opportunity to gain office (something that comes along about as often as a solar eclipse in suburban Indiana) quickly offered a challenger who had lost an election as recently as a year ago! The city council, in a nasty debate, voted down a resolution asking Redick to resign by a 5-4 margin. As of today, Redick remained in office, and was shouting wildly about how the US Constitution was still in effect and he was innocent until proven guilty (astute use of the Constitution in the week of our nation’s birth!). His ex-wife said he was the victim of an attempting lynching. And I could be mistaken, but I think life went on as normal over the weekend in Noblesville.

Just a tremendous story, loaded with stuff to comment on. You can see why I’ve had trouble composing my thoughts. Where to begin?
Domestic violence: never a good thing. Let’s assume that the mayor wasn’t under the influence of any substances, legal or otherwise. I don’t care if your lady is smacking you around, you don’t put your hands anywhere near her throat and force her against an automobile.
Perhaps those that say margaritas and second hand marijuana smoke can’t make people belligerent are wrong.
What’s the deal with people named Clemons and domestic battery charges related to choking?
There’s nothing like a good public screw-up by an elected official to get the political vultures out and pouncing. “If Redick would just smack that girl friend of his, we’d have our chance.” (Please note, making light of domestic abuse is also never good. I’m making fun of his opponents.)
I love public figures that find themselves in sticky situations and remind us about the concept of innocent until proven guilty. They’re pretty much saying, “Get off my back until I’m convicted” aren’t they? Civics lessons from people who manage to get into fights with domestic partners in public parking lots are generally missed by the masses.
Ex-wives who come to your defense are true gems. One wonders if the former Mrs. Redick spent the remainder of last week in her home baking cookies (a semi-obscure reference for the true political junkies out there).
And using the term lynching when talking about a white, middle class, Republican, elected official never gets the desired effect.

All I know is I’m happy I live in Carmel, IN, where the city council is too busy pissing everyone off with the school redistricting plan to have time to go to concerts, get liquored up, and smack around their live-in love interests.

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