If I could shimmy the way this kid does, I might be out dancing poolside too:
I haven’t commented on the whole Starbucks’ kerfuffle regarding forced “race” harangues from baristas who have liberal arts degrees from expensive universities and, not being educated in real world things such as the inevitability of economics, can’t understand why they’re pushing overpriced coffee, instead of decorating faculty lounges across America. I mean, really, what is there to say?
However, I did find this little gem, which seems to be the perfect coda to the whole embarrassing affair (which may take a few seconds to load):
UPDATE: And the perfect cartoon to go with it:
Don’t be put off by how awful this video is in the beginning. It actually continues to be awful, but it gets funnier and funnier as you realize there’s a joyous spirit behind it:
One of my favorite daily reads is James Taranto’s Best of the Web Today and one of my favorite features is the section Taranto labels “Fox Butterfield, Is That You?” The reference is to Fox Butterfield, a journalist, who gained fame for labeling as a paradox a statement in which the two factors were manifestly causally related: “More Inmates, Despite Drop In Crime.”
James Taranto finds a lot of those Fox Butterfield statements in the news. Today, I found one hiding in plain sight at the Drudge Report:
No matter how you fight it, this will make you laugh:
I don’t know about you, but after watching the end of the world as we know it, televised live from Las Vegas, I could use a little opiate for the people — and what better opiate than a dog video?
When I watch Dancing With The Stars, I never watch the Rumba. Invariably, there’s no line between sexy and sleazy, so I always feel like a peeping Tom, watching a bedroom ritual. Certainly there’s never room at all for elegance and romance. That is, until Sadie Robertson does the Rumba, which Mark Ballas choreographed beautifully with respect for Sadie’s strong religious and moral beliefs. Fred and Ginger could have done this without embarrassment:
While walking down the street one day a Corrupt Senator (that may be redundant) was tragically hit by a car and died. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
“Welcome to heaven,” says St.. Peter.. “Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we’re not sure what to do with you..”
“No problem, just let me in,” says the Senator.
“Well, I’d like to, but I have orders from the higher ups. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.”
“Really?, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,” says the Senator.
“I’m sorry, but we have our rules.”
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.
They played a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and the finest wines and champagne. Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who is having a good time dancing and telling jokes.
They are all having such a good time that before the Senator realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises.
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens in heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him, “Now it’s time to visit heaven…”
So, 24 hours passed with the Senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.
“Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.”
The Senator reflects for a minute, then he answers: “Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.”
So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell…
Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls to the ground.
The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.
“I don’t understand,” stammers the Senator. “Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?”
The devil smiles at him and says,
“Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted.”
Vote wisely in November.
I was watching Dancing With The Stars. Then, the family descended, insisting (collectively) that it needed to watch something else. So I found this instead:
Have I mentioned that today has been a Murphy’s Law day?
Also, am I the only one who’s ever noticed that watching baseball players is like watching a whole team of people with Tourette’s? This is not meant to denigrate people who struggle with Tourette’s. I’ve known some people with this condition and admire greatly their courage in going through life. This is just an observation about the obsessive spitting, twitching, licking, uniform adjusting, cap fussing, ticcing, manic behavior you see when you watch pitcher and batter in close-up during a baseball game. And let me just say that the spitting is revolting.
Blogging will resume tomorrow. Since it’s 9:25 p.m. now and this is the first time I’ve gotten to my computer in 12 hours, you can probably guess that I’m not ready to start writing anything.
Those of you who don’t watch Dancing With The Stars might not know this, but one of the contestants is 17-year-old Sadie Robertson, of the Duck Dynasty family. She is an absolute delight as a dancer. Although she’s never danced before, she turns out to be a natural, from the tips of her fingers to her always well-placed toes. Although the judges didn’t agree, I thought she turned in the best performance last night:
And I was sad to see ” target=”_blank”>Randy Couture get sent home. I knew he wasn’t going to last, because he’s not a good dancer, but there was something appealing about him. In addition to his good looks, I like that he served his country for six years (retiring with the rank of sergeant) and that he’s a kick-ass fighter.
I just love that second sentence. It’s certainly what my dogs would say if they could.