Good Friday in Pilsen

Doing Chicago Proud

I've been feeling bad lately about my bad behavior these past few weekends. This video of Stacy, the Chicago girl on The Bachelor, makes me feel better.

I guess it's Women's History Month?

Check out this very cool slide show called The Unretouched Woman.

This gal here was a lady of the night. She's in a brothel in pre-Castro Havana.

Yet another 3 a.m phone call

I'm a little late weighing in the latest uproar on the campaign trail. But this post is so worth the wait, because what you have here is an actual phone transcript of a recent call between HRC and Ms. Geraldine. It's crazy how these things fall into my lap sometimes. Here's an excerpt:

HRC: So Gerry, I have a favor to ask.

Geraldine: Yes!

HRC: Yes? You don't even know what I'm going to ask you!

Geraldine: Yes, I'll be your running mate! Clinton-Ferraro. . . unstoppabablele!

HRC: Are you drunk?

Geraldine: Totally. . .12 pack of Old Style. . a bottle of wine--

HRC: Focus! Here's what I need. I need you to do an interview with a California paper for me.

Geraldine: LA TIMES! LA TIMES! EEEYAHH!

HRC: Uh, no. The Torrance Daily Breeze.

Geraldine: Ohh. The Times is a rag anyway. That's cool. Alright, give me the number. I'll call the reporter now.

HRC: Gerry, it's 3 a.m.! Wait til tomorrow.

Geraldine: 3 a.m? Fuck. What are you doing up so late?

HRC: Never mind that. Ok, so here's what I need you to say about Obama. Got a pen?

Geraldine: G'head.

HRC: Say, if Obama was a white man, he would not be in this position. And then, then say if he was a woman of any color he would not be in this position.

Geraldine: Wha? Whoa. Can't Bill do it?

HRC: No, and then add that he happens to be very lucky to be who he is. And what else. . say that the country is caught up in the concept.

Geraldine: This isn't going to go over real well.

HRC: No big deal. I'll just disavow you in the press, but only after an egregiously long time so it looks like I really agree with this.

Geraldine: You're gonna disavow me? Hill? Really?

HRC: Yes. Disavow, rebuke, and repudiate you.

Geraldine: Repudiate? What about renounce?

HRC: Um, I'll probably renounce as well. We'll have to see. So you in?

Geraldine: Well, I guess. But maybe. . .

HRC: Maybe what?

Geraldine: Maybe you should just step aside if this is what it's coming to. Do you really want to win this way?

HRC: AND DO YOU REALLY WANT ME TO KICK YOUR ASS????

Geraldine: Ok, I'll do it. Jesus! Good night.

HRC: Good night, is right.

And that's the end of transcript. This liberal LOVES the Patriot Act and all the illegal wire tapping it affords.

Funny

Live blogging

This guy is ready to party. I'm live blogging not from a debate, or a primary, but from my dinner party that was populated by seven of my girlfriends, four of whom are passed out right now.

It's early. It's late. Who knows. With this daylight savings thing, I really have no idea what time it is. Oh, my computer is saying it is 4:45 a.m. . . wowza.

So I'm drunk. But I want to talk about this guy. Check out this You Tube video of Paul Potts, and I dare you not to cry.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA

Dream Team?

Note: I totally broke my blog. I think I have a copy of the old template. . . but I digress. Here's a post I was trying to put up last night.

Last night I went to bed before it was clear that HRC had picked up both Texas and Ohio. I left the internet up on my computer and around 3 a.m was snapped out of my slumber by that tell tale "click."

CNN.com had updated the site and was calling for me. I got up and checked out the latest, got some water, went pee and thought to myself before going back to bed, "Geez Louise, this is gonna go on forever! Maybe they should just team up already!"

Crazy, huh? Well, I was sleepy. But maybe it's not such a bad idea. I've personally worked through a number of my anti-Obama issues, and stuff like HRC's 3 a.m. ad (demagoguery isn't very ladylike, girl) bummed me out so perhaps what this Democrat needs to be happy is a combination of the two.

Things could be worse. We have two very ambitious, intelligent and capable candidates with nearly identical political agendas that could put this country back on a refreshing path. If HRC was the Vice Presidential candidate, she could help Barack end things with Obama girl (no break up sex!) and give him tips on how to handle prying reporter questions about shady real estate dealings. HRC could also tell Ellen, "No thank you," the next time she wants Obama to come on the show to dance. Now if Barack is the Vice Presidential candidate, he can teach HRC how to play nice (or at least nicer), keep Bill busy by challenging him to frequent charm-offs (like who can get Campbell Brown or Chris Matthews to swoon first), and if she freaks out the Canadians on NAFTA, he can call them and tell them she didn't really mean what she's saying, that it's just politics and then ask them about how they do their healthcare.

I have to weigh in on McCain before I sign off. Is it me, or is this guy missing that fire-in-the-belly thing that you'd hope someone who's running for President would have. He's got this Bob Dole stink about him. I have a lot of respect for the guy, but it kind of seems like the mere fact that he's got the nomination is enough for him. After the shit his own party's thrown at him, it's a sort of "You like me! You really like me!" moment.

Anyway, that's probably why our two yokels are going at it like they are. Because one of them is so going to win this thing.

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.

Debby Downer Endorses Hillary Clinton

Late Friday afternoon I told a coworker that something might be wrong with me because I've yet to fall in love with Barack Obama. I like him, but I don't "like him - like him." I guess I should, right? We have this super smart guy who can hit a speech out of the park and make people feel warm and fuzzy inside, all while dreaming of a better tomorrow. It looks like some independents and Republicans are taking a look at him. That sure is something, I'll admit. And Caroline Kennedy endorsed the guy, for Christ sakes! I should be sitting in a Loop office somewhere, making phone calls right now for Joe Charisma, except for this one little thing.

I don't buy it. I can't help thinking that the Illinois State Senate to political rock star to presidential candidate is too big of a leap. I can't seem to stifle the incredulity that prompts a rolling of the eyes when I hear that Obama is different. Obama is going to change politics. Obama is a uniter. Experience doesn't matter.

Please.

Common sense dictates that it's impossible to get beyond a seat on a school board (especially in Chicago) without getting your hands dirty. Tony Rezko is evidence of that. And today's Chicago Tribune endorsement of Obama mentions Rezko with language that in my opinion, supports the perception of a few that the media has fallen for Obama.

"His assertion in network TV interviews last week that nobody had indications Rezko was engaging in wrongdoing strains credulity: Tribune stories linked Rezko to questionable fundraising for Gov. Rod Blagojevich in 2004 -- more than a year before the adjacent home and property purchases by the Obamas and the Rezkos."

Strains credulity? Obama lied to cover his ass, and will likely continue to do so, just like any other politician. And anyway, big deal. Hillary had her buddy Michael Hsu, except she's not running around the country like an earnest boy scout. So Obama, man up. Rezko is fair game.

Someone said last week that Bill Clinton needed to "chill." I agree. But Bill isn't the only one. We have to remember that something like just 15 percent of the electorate participates in primaries. General election voters are different animals and alot can happen before November. Is too much to ask for a collective deep breath among Democrats? And let's not forget that what the media giveth, it can taketh away, frequently without warning or cause. What will happen if they get bored or worse, with Obama? What will he have left to stand on?

For the last several months when people asked me who I'd vote for, I'd say somewhat half-heartedly, "Well, if I had to vote tomorrow, I'd vote for Hillary." Well tomorrow, is just about a week way, and I'm still there. I will vote for Hillary on Feb. 5th, because I think she'd be a better president.

I'll be honest and admit that I'm not quite over Bill Clinton, so he's a bit of a factor. She was First Lady, sure, but as we all know, not the kind who fussed over flowers and seating charts at State Dinners. She was much more than that, to the dismay of many, but that experience (even the failed health care overhaul) will be invaluable in another Clinton Whitehouse. And Senator Clinton, unlike Senator Obama, has done some real work in the U.S. Senate for her constituents, again giving her an edge in my view.

What's left to address is this issue of her likability. Perhaps I have my head in the sand, but I've always thought that what was at the root of most Republican anti-Clintonism was the fact that they possess this skill rarely found among Democrats--they know how to win elections. And after eight years of George Bush, I'll take their pragmatic no-holds barred campaign style over flowery speeches anytime.

Call me crazy, but I think this woman can do it.

How would Goose answer these?

There's a few tell tale events that signal that I've had too much to drink. One is the phone, comes out and I start calling whoever was crazy enough to give me their number in the first place. Another involves me perhaps, ordering rounds of shots, making a new male friend, or urging pals to commit petty crimes like scaling the wall of our old high school stadium. A few weeks ago, I added a new one to the list: You know it's time for me to go home when I start blabbing about how I'm either going to become a Buddhist, or start my own religion. And then I may launch into a speal about how we're all going to disappear into a vapor soon, so it really doesn't matter if I find a religion.

Anyway, imagine my glee when I happened upon a list of questions Scientologists ask potential recruits in their "audit." I borrowed this idea from my beloved Dlisted.com. These questions are much more interesting than the ones I had to answer way back in Catechism classes. I've only selected a few, so feel free to visit this site for more. And I'm pretty sure this religion isn't for me.

• Have you ever killed the wrong person? I have a 98% success rate. No one's perfect!

• Have you ever been a professional critic? No, I'm definitely an accomplished amateur critic.

• Have you ever wiped out a family? If you have any idea of how to do that, please let me know.

• Have you ever tried to give sanity a bad name? I've never tried to give sanity a bad name, however at a Bon Jovi concert in 1989 at the Peoria Civic Center, I specifically remember Jon Bon Jovi saying that I gave love a bad name. Does that count?

• Have you ever consistently practiced sex in some unnatural fashion? No, well not consistently.

• Have you ever made love to a dead body? Oh, that's why he didn't call!

• Have you ever engaged in piracy? I may or may not have a few programs on my computer that were obtain at a heavy discount.

• Have you ever been a pimp? Yes, once or maybe nine times I may have pimped out friends for free drinks.

• Have you ever eaten a human body? Too many Weight Watchers points.

• Have you ever disfigured a beautiful thing? Yes, I once poured Sun-In allover my black hair in high school and had to walk around with an orange head.

• Is anybody looking for you? God, I hope so.

• Did you come to Earth for evil purposes? Initially, no. But as the years wore on, I became increasingly irritated and am now about ten days away from my plan to . . . uh, you'll see soon enough.

• Have you ever made a practice of confusing people? Shluppidah doo winglatee!

• Have you ever philosophized when you should have acted instead? Acted? Like in a movie about a teenage boy whose parents go away and leave him alone to turn their suburban house into a brothel?

• Have you ever gone crazy? I have but try not to stay too long.

• Have you ever smothered a baby? With love and kisses, of course!

• Have you ever tried to make the physical universe less real? Wha?

Dressing appropriately for the weather

Winter took a little vakay from Chicago the past couple of days when the temps went above 60, and every last flake of snow melted. While it was a welcomed reprieve from typical January weather, I just about needed a U-Haul to tote all the possible gear I'd need to be prepared for any further fluctuations.

Umbrella, check. Coat that won't feel like you're carrying a soggy dog around on your back if it gets wet and will fit in your bag if you get too hot walking from the L to your office, check. Layered clothing because you know your office will be a sweltering 90 degrees, check. Gloves and hat in case the temperature takes a surprising 40 degree dip between lunch and quitting time, check. You get the idea. It's kind of a pain.

Every year I'm good for a few days each season where I'm not quite grasping the concept of dressing appropriately for the weather. It took a couple of winters here before I came to understand the importance of wearing a hat from November to March. There was a time when March 1st meant Angie's spring has sprung, knee deep snow and the threat of pneumonia be damned, I was downsizing from a bulky winter coat. And then there are the polyester leisure suits I like to crack out in late August.

So anyway, we're getting back to normal and I'm glad. Climate change is spooky. We're Chicagoans and it's winter for crying out loud. We're supposed to have cracked, bleeding hands and static electricity in our hair. The "Caution: Falling Ice" signs are everywhere with nary an icicle to fall and pierce an unsuspecting pedestrian's skull.

God help us, everyone.