Big, beefy and delicious

As Mona's word for this Friday is lean, I offer the following doe-eyed, succulent repast from our friends across the sea in England:


These are not photoshopped.




That's a lot of burgers.

Green matters too.

I was going to post his over at Sowing Dissent, because it is political in nature, but nobody goes there any more. Then I was going to post it over in the comments at Bitch PhD, but this is too good for a mere comment, and I'm still pissed that she did away with her entire blogroll several months ago, boosting her own pagerank, and somehow not getting called out on that (grumble, grumble, grumble).

Anyway, I am never wrong when I make a political prediction. NEVER. I rarely make them, because the waters are often so very cloudy, but I seem to have moments of clarity that elude other people. Here is a prediction: Obama won the nomination yesterday morning, sometime before lunch. The fight was over on May 13, 2008. Note it on your calendar. Of everything that has gone on, of every story that has come out, there is one story that was blown off by most that is the true dagger to the heart: Senator Clinton ain't got the dough.

Think about what that means: if she had to loan that much of her own money to the campaign, then she hasn't been successfully fund raising for weeks now. With the loan of her own money she was still $20 million dollars behind. As that cash-in-hand figure does not consider outstanding liabilities, she may in fact be twice that far behind.

And the real campaign has not even begun yet.

This is why Obama blew off West Virginia, and is campaigning in Missouri and Michigan. Maybe Hillary could win it all, maybe she should win, but she cannot afford to compete. Barrack can. He knows this. The super-delegates know this. The DNC knows this.

The color issue is not black or white - it is black or red.

Bitching and whining.

I'm falling apart over here. Prior to late 2007 I had never been to a chiropractor. Since November or so I've now been a good 6 or 7 times. Is this because I keep fucking my back up or because chiropractic is facilitating me fucking my back up? And this fucking verruca on foot is just unrelenting. Surgery and chemo-therapy are not doing the trick. I'm tired of wearing multiple layers of socks just so I can take the edge off of the pain. I'm a runner for crying out loud, and I can barely walk these days. The maddening thing is that I am otherwise in the best shape of my life. At least when I was a slovenly drunkard my health failings were more manageable. That's what clean living gets you, I suppose.

A five-gallon pail of win.

A couple of years old, but still a classic.

It's like a party in my mouth

A couple of quick thoughts:

1. I found myself listed on Conde Nast Portfolio.com. Wtf? I've been getting solicitations to be listed in those various "who's who" scam publications for 20 years, and I thought this was one of the same, at first. But apparently I can count myself among the scant 1/2 million "executives of leading public and private companies." Who knew? Just think of all of the delightful new spam opportunities that will now be coming my way!

2. Best quote I've read in a long time:

"Self-respect is a party that I am holding at my house and to which I have invited myself."

from the blog of John Allison, A Hundred Dance Moves Per Minute; John creates my favorite on-line comic, Scary-Go-Round.