Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Downhill to Autumn

The Fall rains have begun, it's grey and green outside, the birds have begun to gather in flocks to fly south, the apples are turning red and the blackberries are ripe enough to eat. Where did summer go?

Such a difference, living back here after decades in Austin, Texas. I used to dread the oncoming summer and celebrate the first cold front, now I wonder if I'll ever be truly warm again.

I remember moving to Houston from Seattle, and how I felt really warm enough, clear through, for the first time in ages. I was SO happy to be warm enough at last. I loved Texas entirely. The people..those who grew up there, are the kindest, most generous souls I have ever encountered.

Unfortunately, Texas is known more for people who have moved there and draped themselves in the Big Texas Myth. Shrub and his daddy, better known as the Bush Presidents, are both Yankees. They are NOT Texans, in fact. In 1991 Big George spent three nights in a Houston hotel so he could claim Texas residency!

Little George has a little too much beer in Bejing (note his daughter's countenance to his immediate left)

Little George is still the perfect Frat boy, publicly acting out with a spoiled-brat ego and little else. The ONLY reason he became Prez is because he had the lesser record of bad deeds amongst the four brothers. Yes, I said "four." You know about former Florida Gov. Jeb and Neil, of course, but did you know there was another Bush brother people seldom see? The youngest of the crew, his name is Marvin, and according to the Wiki entry, he is "a Venture Capitalist." Amazingly, even the Bush Family Skeletons website doesn't even MENTION him. He is married, with two adopted children. Hmmmm.... Clearly, there is a smoking gun there somewhere.

I actually feel sorry for Little George. I don't believe he ever wanted to be President, but was pressed into service by his VERY scary dad. GW wanted to be Baseball Commissioner, and a dandy one he would have made, too. Poor George, to paraphrase Ann Richards, he was born into a crappy legacy.

Here's a riddle for you: How many Secret Service Agents does it take to hold up a drunken president?

But I have strayed from the subject of Autumnal Angst. Or have I? Just think, NEXT week we get to watch the clown car that is the Democrat Convention in Denver run around and maybe explode! And THEN the Republicans get their chance to thump their chests and be loud and boring. The only thing I can think is, that this time next year, we won't have Little George to kick around any more.

And poof! There goes my angst...and the sun just broke through the clouds outside!

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