America, We Can Do Better

It will be a wonderful day when the first woman is sworn in as president.

Provided it's not her:

Because Sarah Palin is not really a woman, at least not in the modern sense of the word.  She is certainly female; examine her anatomy and you will likely find all the parts prerequisite for the designation.  But a modern woman?  Sorry.  McBone is officially revoking that title.

Why? A truly modern woman, one we'd like to see leading a political party in 2010, transcends the strictures of the white, phallocentric society that we've been trying to slough off for 100 years. Yesterday Palin was the keynote speaker for the Tea Party convention in Nashville. The first thing she did was wish happy birthday to Ronald Reagan.  Reagan! The same Reagan who laid waste to Central America, who narrowed the gap between church and state, who is the most mythically conservative president of all time, who removed the Equal Rights Amendment for women from his party's platform when he ran for president in 1980, who made so many lousy movies it makes my head spin.

If Sarah Palin and her T-bags are seeking to start a revolution in the 21st century by channeling the rock bottom leadership of the 1980s, and if Sarah Palin becomes a legitimate presidential candidate in 2012, and if we somehow nominate and, mother of mercy, elect her, then we will deserve everything we get.

I want to know exactly how many black, Hispanic, Native American, GLBT or poor people were in attendance.  I want to know how many of the marginalized people of this country (aside from women, of which there were many) count themselves among their ranks.

Sarah Palin is not irrelevant, but she should be.  In the hope that we tune her out and make her disappear, McBone will do its small part.  This is the last time I will blog about her.  Ever.

Done.

Over.

Probably.

nwb

What Happens When You Mix Leather Goods with Crystal Meth?

I'm not sure why this stuff always happens when you combine Nate, Alex, Craig and Jessica with some sort of fair--state, county or otherwise.  I was going to just let this one go.  Take the high road.  Forgive and forget.  Turn the other cheek.  Let bygones be bygones.  Live and let live.

Can't do it.

Sweating, smelly and belligerent, this guy ran the Leon Leather shop at the Indianapolis State Fair with all the welcoming warmth and charm of a kick to the groin, and he must forever live with the wrath of McBone.

'NO PITCHERS!'  He barked as Jessica snapped this photo.  Meanwhile, he swatted the hands, sticky with fairgrounds comestibles, of customers who browsed through the panoply of leather goods--purses, vests, chaps, belts, wallets and, the object of our visit, cowboy hats.  He was like the perfect hybrid of a den mother and a big, sweaty asshole.

"How much is this one?" Alex asked.  The question was innocent enough, but it set off a firestorm.

"Fifty dollars," he growled, his bloodshot eyes darting here and there in a sort of frenzied malice, barely contained. 

'That's expensive,' one client noted under her breath.

'IT'S LEATHER!' boomed the voice of our bellicose friend.  'LEATHER COSTS MORE!'  His moustache bristled.  Sweat poured from his sun-broasted face.  For one fearful moment, I thought he was going to slug the poor woman for the affront. 

As he became more and more unhinged, it was clear that this purveyor of leather goods was in dire need of something to huff.  In terror, his clientele scattered, fairgoers in search of friendlier confines than Leon Leather.

We don't know what became of our leather peddling misanthrope.  We can only hope some merciful soul has put that poor t-shirt out of its misery.

Pictured: Alex risks life and limb by trying on a Leon Leather cowboy hat.

nwb