Ask anyone; I’ve done some dumbassed things in my time. Have been accused, at times, of being slick-as-a-weasel in explaining away heinous–albeit harmless and/or stupid–acts.  However, is it just me or does this guy take the Cake for Dumb-Assedness.

Darren Mack, 46, pleading guilty in Las Vegas in November to murdering his wife, and also accepting a judgment for attempting to kill the judge handling his divorce (after first insisting on his innocence): “I do understand … in my (current) state of mind that shooting at the judiciary is not a proper form of political redress.” [Las Vegas Review-Journal, 11-5-07]

What the HELL was he thinking? Does he mean, maybe, that being sorry should be enough for taking a shot at the Judge after he was found guilty of murdering his wife. instead of something reasonable like, oh, ”listening to his Higher Angels” and filing an Appeal to a higher court or, maybe, simply voting against hizonner when he next stands for re-election?

What do you think,  Bitter Readers?   Is it me? Or maybe this guy’s lock-and-load attitude reflects current stress management practices.  Nevermind! It’s prob’ly just me.

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I’m probably the only one in the world that can get tickled walking around Tesco. As you leave, the certain doors have signs on them saying “This door is alarmed.” I’d like to have a t-shirt with a picture of that sign, but changed to say “This human is alarmed.” But then I’m easily amused, and it really wouldn’t matter to me if no one else thought it was funny.

So I realise recently that I’ve been getting alarmed about all the wrong things. Not that it’s something I do all that often. I’m a fairly laid back kind of girl. The other day the veins in my knuckles turned black (in a rather rapid and sci-fi sorta way) and then my fingernails turn purple, and the palms of my hands go blue and then, being slightly alarmed, I go show hubby, who decides to call the hospital (where I’d just had surgery). Meanwhile, WHUMP, I’m unconscious. Drama drama fun fun.

So what do they say? Oh, that’s what happens when you’re going to pass out. If it gets worse (Umm, like how?) then call your General Practicioner. Okay, sure. To be fair, I was two days past a general anaesthetic, which makes one prone to faint and also makes one particularly gullible.

I went ahead and made an appointment with my GP and told her about the Star Trek hands, and she frowned the way she does, but didn’t comment much beyond that except to say, “Hmm, bad circulation.”

And then… and this is the whole point here….

“I’m alarmed at how much weight you’ve lost since I last saw you.”

“Alarmed?” says I, “I’m fricken overjoyed!” Okay, I didn’t really say that, but I thought it. I make a habit of never smarting off to people who control my health, my food, or my money.

I’ve been struggling with my health for a little while, and I make a huge point of not whinging and just getting on with things. Because, in fact, no one else cares, and I really don’t like sympathy. So we’re all better off this way. But at this I draw the line. The ONE good thing that’s come out of this ordeal, (me dropping 25 pounds) and it alarms her. #-o

I’m starting to suspect I’ve spent my entire life getting alarmed at all the wrong things. Like, the fact that the UK has had 5 men held hostage in Iraq for 6 months, and we’re JUST NOW hearing about it, because the hostage-takers released a video. The Foreign Office is condemning the kidnappers for this, but I want to send them a thank you note (the video thing, not the kidnapping, duh). Because our own government doesn’t seem to want to tell us what’s going on. Am I the only one that thinks this? I must be, because the news agencies didn’t bother to bring it up.

I’m alarmed at the fact that my son was not given any books at school, but instead seems to be expected to look everything up on the internet for himself. But the Minister for Education keeps talking about how much money they’re spending on schools and how much better things are getting. So apparantly I have nothing to worry about.   Alarm misfire #2.

And yes, I confess, I was alarmed at the Star Trek hands. But no, according to medical science (and the woman behind the big desk) it’s the fact that I’m 30% less tubby that I should be worried about.  ???

I wish someone would just give me a manual to go with this alarm system, so it wouldn’t keep firing off at all the wrong things.  But as a side note:  screw that… 30% less tubby! Woohoo!

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Reporters keep asking, “Is American Ready For A Woman President?” And even though 92% of Americans polled by CBS say yes, dumbass journalists keep asking the question.

My favourite response to this question comes from Elayne Boosler when she said, “Go To Hell. ” But then there are others who say that America isn’t ready, because somehow a person capable of running for office isn’t capable of dealing with accusations of being a lesbian . Now I’m not a big Clinton supporter, but you have to agree that it says something for someone when the worst insult they can come up with is to say you’re tough, bitchy, and probably a lesbian. Note that among those “insults”, nobody has called her stupid.

So it’s journalists that are asking the dumb question, and not “real” people, but just to play along, what would they, the voting American public, have to do to get ready?

I suppose it depends on what you think might happen when a woman gets elected. We’ve had female leaders in the UK and around the world, and I don’t think it required that they reprint all the ballots in pink, nor did they have to close down the government one week out of four. Amazing, huh?

I suppose the biggest thing that needs to be decided before an American woman can become president is what to call her husband. The First Gentleman? That sounds… ridiculous. However, considering that there is only one woman running for president, and were she to win, her husband will be called, as he is entitled to be called for the rest of his life, President Clinton, then it really isn’t something we need to struggle with for a few more years.

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Mercy me! While pondering the situation recently posited for our Bitter Readers, I decided to drop in on Bubbaworld - who seems to be a fellow keeping track of some of the stranger goin’s-on in Oklahoma. That could turn into a full-time job.

Bubba reminded me of “The Case of the Masturbating Judge.”  It seems that Creek County (OK) District Judge Donald Thompson used to, er, entertain himself whilst trials were being held before his bench.

“The Case of the Masturbating Judge takes Oklahoma’s Law and Order reputation to new levels, unfortunately very low levels. Creek County District Judge Donald Thompson “retired” while facing proceedings to oust him from the bench on allegations of using a “penis pump” to masturbate during both jury and non-jury trials, including those for first degree murder.  Thompson now stands a convicted felon following a jury trial in which he was found guilty of four counts of indecent exposure, sentenced to four years in prison, fined $40,000 and required to register as a sex offender.”

Ah, yes, that should be sweet enough, BWs; but, there’s more.

Before the matter came to trial, Thompson sent a letter of resignation to Gov. Brad Henry, which–if accepted–would allow him to retire with a full pension. Somewhere, sanity prevailed and the pension was revoked. Naturally, time on his hands (sorry), the incarcerated Thompson appealed the decision. (Lord knows that a man of his age, what with being a convicted sex offender–thus unemployable–needs the income.) According to THE TULSA WORLD (March 7, 2007):

“A hearing to determine whether to reinstate the state retirement benefits of former Creek County District Judge Donald D. Thompson has been continued indefinitely. “

Wahoo! Applause for the good guys.  Once again on June 21, 2007, THE TULSA WORLD reports:

“The Oklahoma Pardon and Parole Board on Wednesday unanimously voted not to grant former Creek County District Judge Donald D. Thompson parole.”

Sweet Jesus–sweet Justice…..

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Over here in the Colonies, either we have a penchant for electing men to office who (A) won’t go home when the party is over, and (B) won’t keep their penis in their pants or confine said penii to a wife/partner, or American males’ combined Intelligence/Propriety Quotient has slipped way into the red zone.  We have a helluva crop of men—not drugged-out, megalomaniac Hollywoodies—but dammit all, elected politicians–who insist upon doing truly stupid things publicly.

Everyone remembers the anticlimactic—you should excuse the expression—Presidential sex scandal when then-US President Bill Clinton received some on-the-job relief from Ms. Monica Lewinsky, asked her to lie about it, faced the TV cameras himself and said, “I did not have sex with that woman.” Smiling Bill then lied to Congress his-damn-self and was impeached for lying, then continued to serve out his term. Where I come from that is called, “getting spanked…” (Code: “…on the wrist.”).

Fall of 2006, then-Congressional Representative Mark Foley, R-Fla., was accused of “inappropriate sexual contact with minors” those minors being teen-aged boys serving as Pages in that august institution.  The predictable posturing ensued, until the weasel was confronted with hard-copies of his steamy emails, after which he resigned and checked himself into an “Arizona facility.” His attorney’s statement said Foley was gay, an alcoholic, and had been molested by a priest as a teenage altar boy in Florida.  (In my university Logic class they called that a “Red Herring.”)

Godawmighty! It ain’t even safe to go to the toilet in—of all places that otta be safe—an airport.  Senator Larry Craig (R-Idaho) was arrested and pled guilty when held on a complaint of lewd conduct in the Minneapolis, MN, airport. (Notice I’ve skipped right past all the gut-busting things I could say about Homeland Security.) Senator Craig, a conservative Republican, has defended American morals by a public stand against gay and lesbian issues, chiefly same-sex marriage.  When facing the camera about these charges, the first thing he wanted the voters to know apparently was, “I’m not gay.”  (Did I just hear San Francisco emit a sigh of relief?)

I really want to know what it is about men and their dicks; then, throw power into the mix, and they get just nutty. I know it IS possible that there are women who’ve been elected to office who both (A) and (B)—yet, somehow they manage to stay out of (public toilets) and the media with their shenanigans.

In light of all this hanky-panky, I’m considering not using the Ladies loo any more. The best you can do in there is eavesdrop on juicy dishing and maybe scrounge a bit of hairspray. Hell, if I’da known you could get laid in the Men’s Room, I’da made the switch a long time ago.

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