Monday, January 30, 2006

"Who would name their kid Jack with the last word(s) 'off' at the end of your last name?" George Clooney

I wrote this last week so it's not so timely now but I'm posting it anyway...

Are you kidding me? Frank Abramoff (lobbyist Jack's father) is chastising George Clooney for making his granddaughter cry. Is this guy for real? Let me get this straight…George Clooney makes fun of Abramoff’s son’s name during his acceptance speech at the Golden Globes, and it rocks the foundation of the Abramoff family. Please. This is just a taste of what the Abramoff family is in for. It may not be pleasant for the Abramoff children to experience the attention their father’s actions have brought them, but it sure as hell isn’t George Clooney’s fault. Was it the wrong time and place to make such a joke? Maybe. But ya gotta admit, it was funny as hell.

What I wanna know is where does Frank Abramoff get the audacity to characterize Clooney’s little joke as an “effort(s) to destroy him (Jack Abramoff) and our family.”? Well, I dunno Frank. I think your little Jackie’s doing a pretty good job on his own to destroy the family and besmirch his sacred name. Seriously, the guy is not only under investigation, HE’S CONFESSED!!! Maybe Jack should have a sit-down with his little girl and explain that Daddy’s done some very bad things and people are going to say stuff about him and do things that might make her cry. Like calling him a thief. And sending him to jail. And taking away that Barbie dream house she got for her birthday so they can auction it off to pay Daddy’s legal expenses.

Frank Abramoff tells us that "One day the truth about my son will come out …” Well, now’s as good a time as any to speak the truth, Frank. Maybe you should have taught Jack about that a long time ago. And you might want to lock up all the grandkids when the truth does come out, because sometimes the truth makes you cry.

Ya know, I was thinking, why would anybody name their son Jack…

Next time use the drive-thru

So I'm starting a new blog, moving some stuff from the old one here and leaving the old one for family stuff.

Hey, keep an eye out for Chris and Casey's excellent blogging adventures as they learn their ways through Stellenbosch and London. Chris trades one Cape for another and Casey travels from New England to old. I'll put links to their blogs when they're up and running.

So here's my latest adventure in pharmacopia...

The other night I went to my local Walgreen’s to pick up a few prescriptions, as I am wont to do…every freakin’ week. Anyway, I had a couple of other items to pick up (doesn’t everybody buy their milk at the drugstore?) so I went inside instead of using the drive-thru. I take my place in line at the pharmacy check-out. In front of me is a big ol’ Bubba splayed out across the counter discussing cold remedies with the cashier. Nice butt crack! Thanks for sharing.

Anyway, Bubba is proudly regaling the cashier with memories of colds past, like the time he used an expectorant to relieve his cough, only to develop a stuffy nose, necessitating yet another trip to the drugstore for yet another expectorant. This was fascinating stuff. And to think I might have been home watchin’ Jordan solve yet another murder the Boston police had been unable to solve for twenty years – I woulda missed the adventures of Bubba’s mucosa!

But I gotta hand it to Bubba. He can really spin a yarn. And he was so convincin’ the old geezer in line behind me started in with the coughin’ and the hackin’. I’m not sure if that was sympathy wheezin’ or if Bubba’s cough holds the same subliminal power of suggestion as a yawn but whatever it was, it was workin’ on Granpa.

So Bubba’s goin’ on and on and on about how when he lies on his left side, the left side of his head gets all stuffy. He figured out how he could relieve the stuffiness by rollin’ to his right. But sure ‘nuff the right side’d get all stuffy and he’d have to roll to the left. Bubba ain’t never heard of no Isaac Newton, and maybe if the durn fool haidn’t been asleepin’ under the apple tree he mightn’a got conked on the head. Anyway, should I buy this expectorant or that there one? I’m getting’ kinda tired o’ payin’ ten dollars a box for these here cold remedies.

Well, here’s a thought for ya, Bubba…Stop getting medical advice from the cashier. The cashier is NOT a health care professional.

So finally the cashier and Bubba finish their consultation and decide which expectorant would be right for Bubba’s little affliction, and she asks for his name so she can retrieve his prescription and check him out. I kid you not, Bubba says “I ain’t from around here, I’m from Ashtabula. I’m just visitin’. My prescription’s at the drugstore in Ashtabula. Where I’m from.”

Have a nice day!