Every time I see a Twilight movie (which has only been twice on margaritas because I like my vampires a bit dangerous such as this dashing fellow who beat a guy with his very own arm at one time) I laugh. I can’t say that I don’t enjoy them because I do. I enjoy the laughter because I find them to be Ed Woodsian comedies. Ahh, but the kiddies love it and both of my nieces will tell you that they are neither which, in my humble opinion, that my work on this planet is done.True Blood is camp but wicked. Twilight is Sweet Valley High with vegetarian vampires. You choose, but I’m not Team Bloody.
I miss things as I get older. Mainly I miss Wednesday, who was my idol when we only had three channels and reruns came on after my grandmother’s beloved Days of Our Lives. The Addams Family was watched without fail right before Dance Party. I would say I missed just having three channels but that would be a lie because I must see Deadliest Catch and they just aren’t showing that on PBS. But Wednesday was gifted and awesome and I wanted to be just as Goth as her in 1972.
Anyway, Hello Wednesday, and we miss you Lisa Loring.
Let’s take a stroll.
Sean Braisted has a post on candidate Steven Turner that I find to be very intriguing.
Aunt B. has some very insightful words of advise to Democratic Women in the state of Tennessee. She also has a very good media critique of a recent press release sent out by the TNDP. I’m as gobsmacked as she is.
The Tennessean has a story on the race between Jeff Yarbro and Douglas Henry. The money being raised is interesting.
This may be one of the funniest posts I’ve read in a long time by Big Stupid Tommy. It’s called a brief lie:
I walked over to the big green box, and pulled what I thought was my Dad by his short, stubby tail, wishing all that while that he’d learn once and for all to put on a damn pair of pants when he’s going to town. I wanted only to get his attention. Mom has lots and lots of fine foods for him to eat, few of which will give him intestinal parasites. I yanked the short stubby tail, to get him to quit rattling the foundations of our growing family by eating out of restaurant dumpsters.
I guess my skills as a storyteller fail me, because I’m guessing you’ve figured at this point that it wasn’t my Dad digging around in the trashbin behind Arby’s, and it wasn’t my Dad whose tail I pulled to roust him from his revelry in a half-eaten Big Montana.
Nor was it actor Anthony Anderson, whom I’ve likewise stopped from scavenging through dumpsters around my town and had to fight on two separate occasions. It is a little known fact that Anthony Anderson holds the first and only Doctorate in Dumpster Diving. (I am awaiting the rubber match in our series, sir. I wait patiently at the landfill).
No, it was bear.
This, my friends, is why I love bloggers.