Now you go home and write "I am very sorry for what I did to Frosty" a hundred zillion times.

One reason I haven't blogged much (besides work) is that I mostly blog about politics and the state of politics right now makes my heart hurt too damned much.

I didn't expect to get everything I wanted with the new administration, but on the other hand I didn't expect that there would be absolutely no consequences to the last election. None.

I've volunteered on campaigns and held elective office in the democratic party since I turned 18. I have never felt like my time spent was worthless, even after some spectacular defeats for the candidates I've supported. That is; until now.

The pattern is clear. Republicans take power every few years and fuck everything up. Democrats then take power a few years later and simply slow Republican screw ups, rather than work to correct them. I'm tired of having Democratic rule be nothing more than a Time Out for GOP disasters.

In supporting Lieberman over me the president and the D.C. establishment have turned their back on me. There will come a time when that establishment comes back to us and expects our support or our vote.

In response I respectively say they can kiss our ass. You turned your back on us.

My blogging will be restricted to movies, games, pop culture and Lady Gaga in the future. Politics are worthless.

UPDATE: Lockwood comes to much the same conclusion.

UPDATE 2: I forgot to add to this post that this decision didn't come without considering the consequences to the Democratic party or President Obama of people like me checking out. With the retirement of more and more Blue Dog Dems, the push to pass a crappy healthcare bill that will actually HURT voters, Obama's center-right approach to governing and weak cowtailing to assholes like Sustak, Nelson and Lieberman it's increasingly likely Dems could even lose the House next year.

In such case with the batshit crazy GOP we have now President Obama will be impeached. The reason for impeachment, as in the case of Clinton, will be immaterial. The Right is truly radicalized to the point that any tools to exercise power that they control will be exercised. They can't help themselves.

In such case President Obama will be turning to his base for support just as Clinton did when the GOP went after him. I don't expect we'll be there for Obama in the same way this time around. He'll have no one to blame but himself for this. He turned his back on us first.

The clean, cool chill of the holiday air... an asshole in his bathrobe, emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer...

I took this with my camera phone last night while shopping. I have no idea how that book got there. :-)

Well, if I can't have any fun I might as well leave.

I started this post several times in commemoration of World AIDS Day last week. At times it's gotten pretty long so I'm going to just pare it down to it's essence.

Somebody that my wife and I knew personally, loved and lost to AIDS was Father Peter Davis. Peter was a wonderful man, bigger than life and the pastor at the Catholic church my wife and I met at.

Part of what's made it so hard to finish this post is that it's difficult to find the words to describe just how great a man Peter was. He was down to earth, charismatic and had a great sense of humor. Most importantly; Peter advocated a Christianity based on caring for the weak in our society and centered around forgiveness. He was as much a true Christian as I've ever met.

So I was thinking about Peter on World AIDS Day and decided to do the Google thingy and see if I could find a biography or maybe his obituary to share. To my chagrin the only thing I could find was a mention on the Women for Faith and Family website on what amounts to their Priestly Hall of Shame. No doubt because of the cause of his death, but also it seems because he ministered in a flamboyant manner.

This excerpt from Peter's obituary (not available online, alas) is supposed to be taken as ironic. I read it and it made me glad I knew the man. Go figure.

From auctioning a suckling pig dinner while dressed as Miss Piggy to lighting Easter fire from a trail of gunpowder, Father Peter Davis lived and ministered with passion, humor and drama. On Dec. 28, he died at a Portland, Ore., hospice of AIDS. He was 43. He loved being a Jesuit and a priest. "I absolutely love it," he told a radio talk show host. "I do it easily. I do it naturally." [obituary by Brad Reynolds, S.J., in the National Jesuit News, April 1990]

So for no other reason that it breaks my heart that the only mention of Father Peter Davis anywhere on the world wide interwebs is by an organization run by a bunch of intemperate evil shrews, I simply want to give testament here on my little corner of the digital world that Father Peter Davis was a great man. He was the kind of man who...

...would willingly volunteer to take part in all sorts of goofy, outrageous youth group activities that may have been beneath the dignity of his position but endeared him to teens in the parish...

...would light up every time he saw a baby...

...put the ministry of the poor first and foremost as the parish goal...

...would go out of his way to tell you the worst joke you'd ever heard...

...made Christianity real and not a series of hollow rituals and motions...

...when he was diagnosed with AIDS went against the wishes of the Portland Archdiocese and, trusting his parishioners, publicly announced what he was sick with and how he had contracted it...

...meant so much to Mrs. Wormer and me that even though we were no longer Catholics, nor believers for that matter, we named our son after him.

I am lucky to have known him.

When you gonna drop Magnum on us, buddy?

This gallery of movie stars posing in shots that call back their iconic roles years later is chock full of WIN. Probably my favorite out of the bunch...

When an armed and threatening power lands uninvited in our capitol, we don't meet him with tea and cookies!

How can Barack Obama win the Nobel Peace Prize when he's attacking the moon unprovoked?

Who said that? Gary Cooper? James Stewart? Henry Fonda? Eh?

This is a wonderful idea that Slash Films had. They're asking people to list their favorite movie scenes.

As the author mentions this is an intensely personal thing that says more about the person identifying the scene than it does the scene itself. Reading through other's suggestions I found myself subconsciously taking points away from folks who either a) didn't have much cinematic literacy (i.e. "The Dark Knight") or b) picked a scene that I might admit is great but was also inherently violent.

The scenes I tend to fixate on in films are usually scenes of hope or that are so emotionally resonant I have to fight back tears. Here's just a couple of mine...



Besides Chaplin's genius for some reason this scene reminds me of high school. Maybe it's just because he's imagining he's entertaining all the pretty girls when the reality is much sadder.



A tie for my favorite movie. This scene embodies the "live and love life" message of the flick so well.



I wanted to be Wesley soooooo badly. Robin Wright was just beautiful in this movie. "As you wish..."



Okay, I did put one action flick on my list but it's one of the best action flicks ever made. I couldn't find my favorite scene from Raiders though. The scene with Marion and Indy on the ship after they escape and he realizes that she's really what's important, not the ark is the one that gets me.



This scene is almost quaint in comparison to the reality of the senate but Kapra/ Stewart's call to remember the little guy and do what's right remains moving decades later.

Lastly...



The "kissing" scene from "Cinema Paradiso." Romance and a love of film all rolled into one.

What are your favorite scenes and why?

All dogs go to heaven because, unlike people, dogs are naturally good and loyal and kind.

This is a post about dogs. One dog in particular.

This last week I've been worried about my friend Lisa's puppy Chloe. The little gal was stricken with parvo and almost didn't make it. Lisa's ordeal in dealing with her worried kids and corporate vet brought back a lot of memories about the best dog I ever owned; Loey.

Loey was a Border Collie/ German Shepherd mix that looked like a black German Shepherd with the white Border Collie markings. He was a beautiful dog.

We adopted Loey while we were living in sin before we were married. He was a big part of our life and even came up during the priest's speech about marriage during the wedding ceremony: "sometimes love means a passionate hug and sometimes in means an argument where you find yourself sitting on the back porch pouring out your troubles to Loey," he said.

While he was still a puppy Loey got very sick and we took him to a nearby animal hospital. They immediately diagnosed him as having contracted the parvo virus and set about on a very aggressive, very expensive week long treatment. This particular vet had very poor people skills which is not something you want to deal with when your worried about your dog and, less importantly, your wallet.

One particular exchange with this guy went like this:

Me: "What are Loey's chances?"
Vet: "It's hard to say. Some dogs live and some dogs don't."
Mrs. Wormer: "Well doctor, some vets get paid and some vets don't. He dies we aren't paying you."

Did I mention that Mrs. Wormer kicks all sorts of ass?

Loey pulled through and lived to be a joy AND a pain in the ass for years to come. We moved from the suburbs with a tiny backyard to a country home on six wooded acres a short time after the parvo incident.

Once in a while Loey would get excited by some animal in the woods and spend the entire night running around the house barking, keeping us awake. During these incidents he seemed to completely lose his mind. He wouldn't come when you'd call him but would only stare at you from the darkened woods with those glowing eyes.

Once we had kids Loey became sort of a doggy uncle to them. When we were outside if one of the kids would start to toddle away he would run in front of them and stop, blocking their way. It must of been the Border Collie in him but he tended to herd us together when we were walking around the property.

My parents moved next door to be near their grandkids. Since the kids now consumed so much of our time and Loey was a bit neglected so he quickly adopted my dad as his new owner. He would spend days following my dad around or sunning nearby as dad tinkered on his cars. They went everywhere together.

I haven't written about this next part on this blog because there's still a lot of pain associated around what happened but I think in as much as Loey played a part that makes it so very relevant to how I feel about him even years after he died I'm going to see if I can get this out.

One night my dad called to say he was bringing up a pizza for dinner. At some point a while later we heard a strange noise outside the front door and rushed out to see what happened. My dad and collapsed on our front lawn after a massive heart attack.

The rest of what happened is pretty much a blur of surreal images and emotions. Mrs. Wormer and I took turns performing CPR on dad. It was January and pouring rain. It seemed to take forever for the fire department to get there. We kept having to shoo our kids back into the house because they were obviously upset and worried about grandpa. And then there was Loey...

At the time the dog was the last thing I was thinking about. But as I reflect back he was ever present that night. As the paramedics arrived and started working on dad he paced around them in circles, whimpering loudly.

Dad didn't make it.

There are more jumbled memories here. The EMT so gently reviewing all the stuff they'd tried and asking me if they could stop. The guys packing up their medical gear. My oldest who must've been seven-years old at the time curled on her bed saying "this is just a bad dream" over and over. The coroner arriving, again after what seemed like forever.

As they gingerly zipped the bag shut, put my dad's body on the stretcher and moved him into the hearst Loey started to wail mournfully, something I'd never heard him do before. A sad punctuation on to our awful grief.

I hadn't thought about how Loey reacted in years until my friend's puppy got sick and I started reflecting on my own dog that had parvo. I'm not a PETA guy, but I do believe after Loey's reaction to my dad's death that dogs do have an emotional connection with us, that it goes beyond the pack instinct. Their emotions may not be as complex as ours but they are there.

As for Loey- he lived a few years more but continued to have hip joint problems common in German Shepherds. His ability to move around and quality of life slowly decreased. One day he disappeared and wouldn't come when we called him. After two days of worried searching a neighbor called and had found Loey lying in his creek, barely alive.

Our vet was a gentle soul who told us Loey wouldn't walk again and we should consider saying goodbye. Though we've had to make this call before with pets this decision was agonizing. Eventually we decided that it was the best thing to have him put to sleep.

As I said goodbye I leaned over him and whispered in his ear "take care of dad when you see him."

I'd like to imagine that's what he's doing right now.

Sometimes a baby's gotta do what a baby's gotta do.

This last weekend upwards of 50,000-60,000 teabagging douchebags descended on the streets of Washington D.C. to loudly voice their anger at the results of the last election.

We're all aware that a good portion of the clowns that were marching were there in response to Glenn Beck's "9-12 Project" of which the goal, according to Beck, is to return the country to that unified spirit of purpose we displayed immediately following the attack on the World Trade Center.

I'm always amused by the generally accepted view that those on the right are generally more prone to logic while those on the left are easier swayed by their emotions. This paradigm seems so superficially wrong, so upside down as to be laughable.

Conservatives aren't logical. They're simply lacking in emotional maturity and any sense of empathy. They're stuck in adolescence, unable to see past the end of their own nose.

Some conservatives like William F. Buckley or George Will are better able to hide that emotional immaturity than their ideological soul mates. They bury their childishness in their writings under a blizzard of vocabulary or statistics. At their hearts they're nothing but five-year old boys angry because they were picked last for dodge ball.

In the days following the September the 11th attacks all Americans regardless of political stripe were frightened, confused and angry. I recall myself wanting the U.S. to lash out violently at whomever was responsible for the attacks. Eventually we sobered up and realized the complexity of the situation demanded better of us (the Bush administration and it's supporters never did.)

At it's heart the 9-12 Project is a pining for the days when the conservatives weren't the only illogical, angry, frightened or immature group of people in the country. It's a plea for angry truthiness, a longing for shared stupidity.

Beck and his supporters don't like being the only kids in the playpen.

You see, it would be this mat that you would put on the floor... and would have different CONCLUSIONS written on it that you could JUMP TO.

I've been struggling with this all morning. It's a vile accusation about a very unfunny subject. But that's really not the point, is it?

Conservatives like Beck have pushed the envelope in their discourse to the point that objective reality itself is under assault and any sort of bullshit they want to make up becomes part of our actual political conversation. Death panels. Birth certificates. Vince Foster. This nonsense is discussed on our Sunday news programs.

While this may be beneath us it's how politics are fought these days. Not on policy, a playing field in which right-leaning politicos will always be outmatched.

It won't do us any good to stick to the high moral ground if the other side is going to cheat and get away with it. It's time for bloody knuckles, wrestling in the mud trench fighting.

I think we really need to get over our need to play fair if we really care about this country. The other side is killing America. Besides; people like Beck deserve a little taste of their own petard.

Kirk Douglas... Van Gogh... ear.

A little example of why I love Portland...

Yesterday I took a break from work and walked the block or so from my office to the greatest used book store in the world. In the course of that one block journey...

...I passed a pair of beautiful women pulling along a wiener dog on leash...

...listened to the guys in front of me talk about Star Trek...

...stopped in front of the book store to talk to a pair of young ACLU volunteers working to promote gay marriage while...

... a few feet away a street fiddler was playing "Yesterday" by the Beatles...

...laughed at the surreal moment that occurred when our conversation (and the fiddler) were interrupted when one of those "sculpture vans" where an artist has turned a vehicle into a work of art drove by. In this case it looked like he'd created a miniature city on the roof of his van. If this wasn't weird enough he was hanging out the driver's window using a monkey hand puppet to yell something.

Did I mention our city slogan is "Keep Portland Weird?"