Fuzzy McCain

Dear Constituents,

Well, here I am again, and I have the puter all to myself. Mom is all moaning and groaning because now her back hurts again (I thought she was cured, but apparently not, although she says she still is, it’s just hurting temporarily). Go figure. So, while she’s answering the phones at work, a mighty task, I’m writing to you.

I don’t know if you’ve seen the news lately, but there’s a lot of weird stuff going on. First, let me talk about coal. There was a commercial on this morning about how clean burning coal should replace nasty, politic-ridden oil as a fuel source for the United States, a move which would bring us both fresh air and freedom. But if you’ve been watching what’s been going on in Utah over the last month, you’ll see that coal mining does terrible things to the earth, making it rumble and move (oh, and burn) and kill miners. You know, I suppose it’s possible, but I’ve never heard of a Solar Collector tragedy. And I suppose someone could fall off a windmill, but it shouldn’t take weeks to dig them out of the ground.

What was really sad about this incident, besides the miners and their families, was watching the CEO of the company slowly lose his mind. The stress on the man was evident as he went from concern for his company to concern for his employees and their families to almost complete incoherence. It was as sad to watch his decline as the decline of hope for the miners. And when another collapse occurred, killing rescuers, it seemed to be the last straw for him. He may never be the same again. In fact, he may not live out the year. Stress kills, you know.

Let’s move a bit geographically now to where Senator Larry Craig has taken the name of his state to heart, Idaho. Playing around under the bathroom stalls is a pursuit that usually ends by the time boys are about twelve. And listen, Larry, you can get an extension mirror at Sears for under fifteen bucks to check if the guy in the next stall is a cop! You can tell the times they are a changin’ when instead of Nixon’s “I am not a crook!” you hear Larry’s “I am not a gay!”

Senator Craig’s I-did-it-but-I-didn’t stance, along with today’s revelation of leaving an important message (with his name, for God’s sake!) on the wrong voicemail makes me wonder why the Great State of Idaho would elect someone dumb-as-a-spud to begin with. Perhaps they really didn’t know. Or, perhaps they wanted an agricultural representative. Or, perhaps he was just wearing smart-looking glasses. Who’s to say? A man like this is just too stupid to be a senator. Wait a minute! What am I saying?

Yesterday John McCain, the mighty brain of the Republican Party and their leading candidate for the presidency, went to New Hampshire’s Concord High School and took questions from the student body. When asked about his age and possibility of Altzheimer’s disease (a reasonable question considering Reagan’s entire second term was served in the throes of the illness), he answered that his children talked about McCain “hiding his own Easter eggs” and told the student who asked him, "Thanks for the question, you little jerk. ... You're drafted." This flippant remark is an example of the lack of respect Republicans in general and John McCain in particular have for anyone who can’t help them NOW. This student will be voting in a few years, unless he is, in fact, drafted into some bogus and pointless war and killed before an election comes around. It’s happening now. McCain’s comment was meant to be funny. It wasn’t.

McCain, at this interview, and his cohorts at others all take a stand against same-sex marriage as a threat to traditional marriage. That’s like saying the length of skirts in China has an effect on the color of the rice we eat in America. It’s a crock. The recognition of marriage as an institution is important, yes, but marriage, when you get down to it, is about contracts and contracts are about money. Money is what makes the elephant go ‘round.

Same-sex partnerships want the same legal recognition as traditional marriage partners: spousal rights, benefits, insurance, next of kin, custody, inheritance. Under current laws same sex partners have no say in the care of their loved ones. Imagine any mother forced into giving up her child to her in-laws because her husband died. Or trying to carry out your wife’s living will only to have her parents come in and take over. Or leaving your home and belongings to start over because you had no right of inheritance. I just don’t see the threat to traditional marriage. What I DO see is the continued torture and discrimination against those people who choose non-traditional relationships over traditional marriage. Show me how it’s hurting boy/girl marriage. I’ll eat my tail.

And then there’s Michael Vick, who I hate to say, is really getting the shaft. Yes, I know he owned the place where the dog fighting was and yes, he is responsible for all of that death, destruction and cruelty. However, the DA is cutting deals with everyone just to get to Vick, the famous name, to make his reputation. And that, my friends, is wrong. No one should be getting a deal on this one, especially those folks who are squealing on Vick, the ones who were down in the pits betting and beating and killing the animals. This is the first case under the new federal anti-animal fighting law and it’s being used to crucify a famous figure. Don’t get me wrong, he deserves what he gets, but he shouldn’t be getting it alone. By the way, if you remember, the president signed this bill into law the day after I declared my candidacy. Coincidence? I think not.

Well, on the home front, Dad is working extra hours (he says it’s because mom is buying stuff, but it’s just because he’s bored) and The Emily is doing her The Emily stuff. Kemper Kitty got sick right before we went home to see mom’s doctor, and he had…ASTHMA!!! Holy cow, mom said, not another one. He has a little breathing machine and everything now. It’s shaped like a cow head and painted like one and the case for it is a little red barn. Mom says it’s way cuter than the big old boot-box sized one that The Morgan had to use. The Doc said that KK has the allergy rings under his eyes and everything, so they’re gonna be testing him sometime. Dad gets this gleam in his eye and says, “Well, if he’s allergic to animals, we’ll have to get rid of them all. We’ve done it before and we can do it again!” Then comes the maniacal grin.

The Emily says, “Not Smokey!” and mom says, “Not Perry! He’s allergy proof!” I guess that leaves ol’ Pumpkin and the dogs out in the cold, huh? Well, the dogs are both getting pretty old. It would be cruel to give Kyra away and Brigid was a little puppy when they got her. Pumpkin, of course, is an entirely different story. She needs to go to a zoo, somewhere that she can roam wild and free, hide from predators (like vacuum cleaners and such) and pretend she’s a chicken once in a while. Maybe a farm would be best. She’s weird enough to spook the coyotes.

When we flew back to Austin, we came on Southwest Airlines, the best airline in the world! Mom was so happy because they fly 737s and have big leather seats and she could preboard to get a seat which had leg room for her to stretch out her hip and stuff. There was even room for me to look around! And when we got to Love Field, we only had to go over four gates! It was a totally wonderful flying experience. Not like getting on Incontinental Airlines, so called because you never know when they’re going to crap on you:

“How’s the service?”
“Depends.”

Their customer service statement:
“Customer service? WTF!?”

Mom wishes she could go everywhere on SW. When she dies she wants to be in a seat from a SW airliner. Preferably not screaming towards the ground.

Oh, when we got to Austin (where they told mom to go back to after she went home to Mouskin) Avis gave her a Fusion to drive. She didn’t want a Focus (those dang four bangers almost got me killed on the highway before) and that was the only other car available at the compact rate. It was funny as all get out. She managed to crawl into the car enough to find the steering wheel release. When she finally got it raised, she slid in most ungracefully. Then she raised the back seat to her usual good-posture straight up and down. Pulling herself up to driving position, her bad hip was held in the most painful position by the angle of the console. And to top it all off, her head was touching the ceiling. I couldn’t even swipe my tail between her scalp and the header!

We got there and went to work with all our friends from Beaumont. They had all gone there to hide from the hurricane when it came into the gulf. Fortunately (not for Mexico) it hit Mexico and not Texas, so the next day they told us all to go back to Beaumont. I looked at mom and knew she was thinking about making the four hour trip in that little sardine can of a car. She called Avis and asked them if they had anything else at a compact rate that would:

a) accelerate enough not to get her killed and
b) have a roof high enough that her hair wouldn’t touch it

A very kind lady traded her fusion for a Taurus (I guess Avis has a thing with Ford). The trip was lovely and we even stopped in Houston to have lunch with The Morgan and his Beth at a Greek restaurant. I LOVE lamb kabobs!

And so, mom was asked to run the switch board, a complex and important task (kitty cough). We sit in front of the main entrance and I play on the puter while she answers the phones. Sometimes when she’s really busy I go over and dance on all the buttons. It gets her really irritated and she pushes me off the table. That’s when I know she loves me.


So, remember, even though I’m not the most active of campaigners at this moment, I am still in the running. John (Fuzzy) McCain is in my sights for now. Help me out here, gang. The fuzzy part is his brain. It’s like one of those catapillars that tells us how long winter will be. According to John McCain, we’re in for a hell of a cold spell!

LYB

Perry