There's another old saying, Senator: Don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining.

One of my favorite simian bloggers responded ably to my challenge to identify victories achieved by the Democratic congress since they took over in 2006. Without re-opening that particular can of worms, I do want to take issue with his comment that "I must have been one of those kids that got everything I wanted for Christmas as a child."

No, no I didn't.

In the end I don't think the analogy works very well when you factor in the fact that Santa isn't on my payroll and my local congressman is. One of them works for me and the other's a chubby elvish freelancer. (Both like milk and cookies.)

But, for the sake of argument, let's run with the analogy. Let's say you wrote a letter to Santa reminding him that you've been a good little boy or girl and listing out some of the things that might make good gifts, if he was in the mood. At the top of the list you put the things you really, really wanted like a shiny red bike or that Malibu Barbie you've had your eye on. At the bottom of your list was things like baseball cards or school supplies.

Now let's say Santa skipped everything else on the list including the bike with the only gift you had under the tree on Christmas morning was school supplies. It'd be hard not to be disappointed, no? Especially when your elephantine brother who constantly misbehaves gets everything he wants.

You'd find yourself asking what the point is of being good in the first place? You'd start to wonder if there was any justice in the world. You'd probably find yourself getting to the place where you had no use for Santa since he doesn't listen anyway.

You'd ultimately wind up voting Santa's sorry ass out of office the first chance you got since he was an ungrateful son-of-a-bitch who doesn't give a rat's ass about people like you who leave cheap cookies rather than the gourmet cookies he enjoys.

Oh hell, let's just do what we always do. Hijack some nuclear weapons and hold the world hostage.

If you're a fan of Joss Whedon, superheroes, Buffy, Neil Patrick Harris, musicals, Firefly or any and all of the above then you really owe it to yourself to head over to Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog and catch the free first act of Whedon's musical.

I wasn't expecting much but it's pretty entertaining, especially the music.

I'm TRYING to use the phone!

Microsoft, geniuses that they are, released an update on the 8th that killed internet connections if you were using ZoneAlarm as your firewall. The update zapped my net at home and the DSL line I have at my office at work since I rely on ZoneAlarm. It took a call to the phone company to figure that out.

I realize that asking that Microsoft actually test updates before they're released to make sure they won't clash with some of the most popular security software is asking a little too much. I wasted several hours getting my PCs up and running again. Jerks.

If I hadn't been having so damned much fun at everything else in life right now I might have the temerity to write them a sternly worded email. As it stand I can't be bothered. Life's too darned good.

On Thursday we went to the local parade in the small town we live in in celebration of our local mountain festival and because our boy was on the youth football float. We couldn't have asked for nicer weather as it was an absolutely pitch perfect day for a parade.

A few pics we took--

Then on Friday night we drove up to Vancouver (Washington) to meet don snabalus for The Police concert. Holy shit that was fun!

The band was in top form, especially Sting's voice which really would make or break the deal. Sting sounded almost exactly the same. I guess that's a product of never really stopping performing but it's still pretty amazing that the years don't seem to have taken their toll. Having said that; hey made a couple of slight adjustments to the tempo/key of songs, most notably "Don't Stand So Close To Me."

Andy Summers was still great on the guitar although he was the one guy out of the band that didn't look like he was having fun.

The band's not-so-secret weapon in drummer Stewart Copeland tore it up through the entire show. There was a bit on "King Of Pain" in which he got up from the drum kit and just started playing stuff that was hanging behind him. By "stuff" I mean things that looked like used car parts. He as much as Sting make that band.

I pretty much lost my voice from singing along and at one point I leaned over to don when Sting was having the crowd sing "kay-yo-ee-oo-oo-oo" back to him and told don I was having a deja vu experience. That bastard Sting made us do that last time we saw them.

The great thing about all of this is I really got the sense that this concert was for the fans. The guys pretty much don't need the money and they hate each other. The biggest indicator was the music set which included every hit and fan favorite I could think of. There were no songs from any of their solo stuff and they played "Every Breath You Take" which is a song that Sting despises. Thanks guys.

Don's wonderful wife Ladybug wasn't able to make the show so my oldest got to go to her first big concert. Her joy stood in direct juxtaposition to my own chagrin that a boy spent much of the concert "gasp" talking to her. I'm really going to have to steel myself for the next few years.

As don mentioned there was something screwy afterwards as the exit to the parking lots to a 16,000 seat venue were blocked by an accident. At least everybody had time to sober up before they got on the road. OTOH they (ourselves included) were probably too tired to be driving.

Then on Saturday Mrs. Wormer and I were running errands and ran into a couple who we hadn't seen in a while. Long story short we wound up spending the day in the beer garden, ending our evening in a biker bar. At midnight one of the guys rode his Harley into the middle of the bar and the band played "Born to be Wild." It was the coolest fucking thing EVER!

I love Mrs. Wormer. She was the only one who got my Pee Wee Herman jokes (Pee Wee voice: "Nobody hipped me to that, dude.") We really are muy simpatico.

Life is pretty damned good.