Pernicious Lies

After having a hold on it for a couple of months now, I've gotten my hands on Al Franken's book Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them

It's difficult to read, not in that the prose is particularly dense or inane - Franken has a very light, humorous touch, but simply infuriates me the depth and breadth of the wool that's being pulled over the eyes of the American public. The lies perpetrated by the Religious Right makes me want a flaming sword and a license for chastisement - it'd be another thing entirely if one of the top ten no-no's wasn't lying.

Urg. I got a little worked up last night talking to Dru about this - I considered for a moment writing my father (who's economically conservative, and doesn't think much about social issues) and begging him to not vote Republican this next election, or I might have to move to Canada. Or Ireland. Or New Zealand. I hear it's nice there this time of year, and then I can begin my study of their eating habits - they, unlike most Americans, might have an idea of what mutton is.

I was rather heartened this morning to find out that the Massachusetts court has ruled in favor of gay marriage, and a Liberal religious group has been formed, the Clergy Leadership Group, to counter the really bad rep the Religious Right has been giving American Christians. Go them.

(no subject)

I was discussing with someone the way temperature can hit you like a hammer when you're not used it - stepping off the plane in Las Vegas or Phoenix always staggers me - making the transition from plane to jetway is liking passing through a viscous wall of heat. Unless of course, it's the middle of the night in winter, and then it's just a pleasant breath of fresh air, about the same temperature as inside, but without the staleness of a couple hundred bodies packed together for two hours.

Exhaustion can hit that way too. I haven't done anything strenuous lately, but I think I've got a cold trying to sneak up on me, and just five minutes ago, it hit me. My eyes wanted to close, I was yawning fit to crack my skull, and I still just want to crawl into a corner and nap for a week. I can hear my bed calling me from home. A detour to fee the cats, maybe myself, and I'm crashing. Urk.

Until then, I'll just count down the minutes.