Only Ben Affleck can save us now.

Ok, so tonight's space night here at Blogdiggidy. I'm watching the lunar eclipse, eating an orange and just finished reading the story about how the Navy has to shoot down a spy satellite that needs an alignment or something.

This appears to be a pretty big deal. It's funny how the most interesting part is buried midway down the story. Ya know, about how if the Navy doesn't shoot it down, "it can tumble to Earth and -- possibly -- release a cloud of toxic gas." Love it. You know Aerosmith's I Don't Want to Miss a Thing is playing in my head now.

Here's more, "'The United States plans to spend up to $60 million to try to destroy the satellite even though there is only a remote possibility the satellite could fall to Earth, survive re-entry and spew toxic gas in a populated area,' said James Jeffrey, deputy national security adviser." It's also interesting to note that folks think the U.S. is doing this just to show off. China shot down a weather satellite and we want them to know we're cool enough to do it too.

Ok, so back to this remote possibility thing. I want to hear "snowball's chance in hell" and this guy gives me, "remote possibility." That makes me nervous. What kind of gas? Where would it spew? Would it be any worse than what the power plant is belching out down the street from me?

Sorry HRC, I can't support you anymore

I was perusing my blog archives and came across a post from a year ago where I had endorsed Otto, the inflatable pilot from Airplane! and incumbent president in Angerica (the country inside my head). In case you forgot, here's a bit on where he stands:

Don't let the uniform fool you. Otto is pretty liberal. He supports gay marriage and universal health care. He's still smarting from the time when Reagan fired his air traffic controller buddies in the 80s, so he's a union man through and through. He does have a bit of a problem with the hootch, but he's working on it. Made out of vinyl, Otto is 100 percent committed to finding a way to turn back global warming. His carbon footprint is non existent, because most nights he's deflated and placed in his handy carrying pouch. There's no sprawling, energy guzzling mansion to explain here. He did, however have an affair during Bill Clinton's impeachment trial. But we got his goomad to promise to keep her trap shut. He wasn't a POW like McCain, but he was MIA from 1998-2001. Someone left him in a cabana at a pool party and he was mistaken for a toy. He was sold at a garage sale for a quarter, and ended up on ebay where he was rescued. He doesn't like to talk about it."

Otto has been running a pretty clean campaign, compared to his opponent, Eleanor Abernathy, aka, the crazy cat lady from the Simpsons. She lasted for about five minutes in the first and only debate. She kept throwing cats at the audience and was fairly incoherent. No one really knows where she stands.

So as you can see, I'll do just about anything to entertain myself these days. Sure, I gotta do some warm up writing before delving into 2nd city homework, but I have to say it's a little sad and lonely not yet having caught Obamaphilia yet. Ask anyone who knows me--I love fevers and bandwagons! Maybe if I make out with an Obama supporter, I can catch it! Oh, I know, it's not like mono. It's just that here in Camp Buzzkill, it's all mixed messages, primary losses, threats of shady backroom deals and fingerpointing about who copied whose speech. That ain't no fun.

Who wants to go dig up Teddy Roosevelt with me?

At Second City today, a classmate and I were off in our own little group working on song writing. Completely bored, I told him that I want to bring back the Bull Moose Party. He then wowed me and recited the name of like every president in order (I always get lost somewhere between Grant and McKinley) and then I started rambling on about William Jennings Bryan and the Cross of Gold. I'm weird. But I think American Political history is funny and like to amuse friends with outbursts like, "Tippecanoe and Tyler too!" Maybe in a former life I was a 19th Century Democratic ward boss in like Boston. Irish, I'm sure of it. And likely a heavy drinker who beat his wife and kids. Possibly related to the Fitzgeralds or the Kennedys.

Anyway, what will people remember about the 2008 election one hundred years from now? Obama's "Yes We can Video"? The scores of unflattering pictures of HRC on the campaign trail ?Mitt Romney's impossibly lush hair? Only time will tell, I suppose.

Are we there yet?

I've been feeling mighty beleagured as of late with our extra-wintery winter here in Chicago. I usually do hit a wall around mid-February, but the wall came a little early. What with our 6,000 inches of snow and the once-in-ten-years stretch of gloominess where the shit head sun only came out for a whopping 12 minutes since January, it's hard not to hope for our weeklong spring to come early.

Yesterday we did have bright sunshine, but it came at a price. It's was about -20 with the windchill midday when I put on every piece of clothing I owned and left my apartment to see a couple of movies. I didn't feel a bit cold, but I also couldn't see or hear anything and was getting claustrophobic with this anaconda-sized scarf wrapped around my face. Thankfully the streets were clear and most homicidal maniacs were at home updating their Myspace pages, so I was safe. A guy at the bus stop did try to chat me up. Our conversation went a little like this:

Dude: Been waiting long?
Me: What?
Dude: Been WAITING LONG? For a BUS?
Me: What? Uh, bus? No.
Dude: What's your name?
Me: What?
Dude: Name. What IS YOUR NAME?
Me: Angie
Dude: You remind me of my ex-girlfriend.
Me: How can you tell?
Dude: You have the same nose.
Me: Maybe I am your ex-girlfriend.
Dude: Or my future ex-girlfriend.

Anyway, that's what people talk about to keep death at bay while waiting for the Halsted bus on one of the coldest days of the year.

I'm sort of on politics overload now, so I think I'm going to abstain from any more primary-related posts for a bit. I do have one thing to bring up though. Maybe it's the big bowls of paranoid I've been eating for breakfast, but doesn't this primary seem more orchestrated and scripted than usual, like in this eerily creepy way? I don't mean stump speeches and interviews, they're always canned. I guess what I'm saying is this primary reminds me of a a scripted reality show. Kind of like The Hills. Sort of real, but not. So this begs the question: Who's pulling the strings?

I hate to say it. I think it's these guys.

My dirty little secret

It's a good thing I'm not running for President, because GOP opposition research would unearth one of my guilty pleasures--the power ballad--and my candidacy would be sunk.

Man, can Chris Daughtry belt them out! Right now, try to picture me at my laptop, earbuds sprouting from either side of my head, and this blaring in my ears:

"Now that it's all said and done, I can't believe you were the one. To build me up and tear me down, like an old abandoned house."

Like an old abandon house. He's just too much. When I listen to Daughtry it's almost like it's the summer of 1989 again and I'm cruising around with my squad in Patti B's red Cavalier. It was a time when our tan little asses were small enough to fit four in the backseat. Life was so much simpler then. Oh my, how it was so simple then. Queer as it may seem, but this American Idol also ran's music makes me feel like that girl again.

So yeah, I'm ready to come clean and admit, that I, Angie Tee, loves me some Daughtry. Let's hug it out with a little more of this magic.

"I'm going home. To the place where I belong. Where your love has always been enough for me."

Peace.

P/S: I placed the album cover so large because I wanted you to notice the man rings. I like how this one rolls.

So who can beat the Martin Scorsese of Republican Politics?

McCain looks like he doesn't want to let go, doesn't he? Poor McCain. His party has put him through the ringer. They'll need to prop him up come fall ala "Weekend at Bernie's." Anyone who isn't a bottle of Oxycontin, and can get Rush Limbaugh foaming at the mouth like McCain, can't be all that bad.

So the Dems. Color me still surprised at the numbers of people who are willing to overlook his weak resume and take Obama at his word that he'd really be any different than Clinton (other than personality), and give him the most important job in the world. It's not all anti-Clinton. People really want to be moved and believe in their leaders, and I wish them the best with that. Regardless, he did an amazing job last night and it looks HRC is going to have to borrow some dough from Mitt Romney to keep the lights on at Clinton 08.

The highlight last night for me was Bill Richardson sporting a beard, being interviewed on ABC. He was talking about how he's friends with both Hillary and Barack, and even noted that he watched the Superbowl with Bubba. Diane, Charlie, or George--I don't remember who--then got him to admit that Bubba was probably trolling for Latino votes. "Yes," he said, "He probably was just interested in my endorsement." Then Richardson burst into tears. Just kidding.

Well the battle wages on for HRC and Obama. I think this is good for the party, because they'll both be better general election candidates for it. Obama can start coming back to Earth, and Hillary needs to continue on her steady diet of fluffy kittens and babies for breakfast so she can be extra mean in the fall.

Because as we all know, Willie Horton will be waiting for either one of them in his Swift Boat.

Have a Super Super Tuesday!

I had a dream last night about Barack Obama. We were having coffee and he asked me to run his campaign for Illinois Governor. I readily agreed and then tried to get a picture of him with my phone, but the battery was dead. And then others in the dream told me it really wasn't Barack Obama and I freaked out.

What does it mean? Do I need to switch my vote this morning? But that would make HRC cry. So many questions.

This is a picture of Macaroni, Caroline Kennedy's pony. He has endorsed (from beyond the grave of course) Cindy McCain. He doesn't know that she's not running for President, because he's a pony, but likes that her hair looks like his.

Happy Voting!

Why's he gotta be so hot?

Day-um, that's one fine looking Democrat. Forget my earlier post, I'm writing in Leo. Do you think he's just acting like he was intensely interested in the Obama Clinton debate last night?

I was on a anti-Obama fever rant all week with a coworker. I told her about this 19-year-old girl who ran around Illinois State's campus in 1992 sporting a Clinton-Gore T-shirt and a major attitude. With a beer in one hand, and a copy of Bill Clinton's Blueprint for Change in the other, I--uh--I mean she would tell anyone who'd listen:

"He's going to build a bridge to the 21st century! And he was born in a town called Hope! I love him!"

While I was doing that, I bet there was a 35-year-old gal somewhere, saying, "Arrrgh! Enough with that hope and charisma nonsense! Paul Tsongas is what our country needs!" I'm still way iritated with this Obama hullabaloo. I just wish I could find a good Super Tuesday watch party in this town. The only ones I've seen are for Obama supporters and if I show up they might hug me, and try to make me smile and abandon my politics of fear and cynicism.

I can't take any sugary goodness. I'm on Weight Watchers.