It's Been Awhile Since We've Checked In On This Assbag

Phony balogna bullshit huckster David Wygant is back at it.

Over The River And Through Whole Foods… (barf bag, please)
Over the river and through Whole Foods to anyone’s house we go …

So on this Thanksgiving Day, I wanted to share with all of you my take on the day — as well as a little personal message from me. (Nice sentence. Again. Just one reread is all we're asking, David. One.)

Did you sing that song as a kid — you know, the “Over The River And Through The Woods To Grandmother’s House We Go …” song? (No. I was forced to recite it a few times in music class but I never actually sung it. I'm not a douchebag.) I never really understood the “over the river and through the woods” analogy for Thanksgiving because my Grandmother made the driest turkey this side of the Sahara Desert. (The song's from the 1800s, dumb ass. And....huh?)

We’re about to head into the holiday season. Six weeks of tedious annoying Zales Jewelers commercials, not to mention that lovely $69.00 diamond pendant with diamonds the size of bedbugs. (For those assholes who can't afford 3,000 diamonds. What a bunch of losers!)

What Thanksgiving really kicks off (other than the end of the Chargers’ playoff hopes) (oh, a sports reference. Too bad it's a bad one. The Chargers have been in the playoffs pretty damn consistently for the last 5 years. David has no clue about sports yet he tries to relate.)is the start of the most vulnerable six weeks of the year for singles. Let’s call it “the quest to meet someone before 5-4-3-2-1 woo hoo Happy New Year!” (When I was single I never once thought about this. Not...once.)

I’ve had some great Thanksgiving Days though. I remember a few years ago when I had nothing going on for Thanksgiving. (That does sound great.)So I walked into Whole Foods (fuck you. Is Whole Foods paying this douche?)the day before Thanksgiving and I picked up my Thanksgiving dinner: (stop saying Thanksgiving) a box of Peanut Butter Bumpers and soy milk. (I want to hit him harder than anyone I've ever hit in my life. Soy milk? You fuck stick.)

As I was looking for some pumpkin pie to finish off my sugar rush, I bumped into this really sexy woman who had a cart full of some really great looking food. (Great looking food?)So I started a conversation with her:

DW: “Your dinner looks a lot better than mine.”
Her: “Please tell me that’s not your Thanksgiving dinner.”
DW: “I’d love to tell you it’s not not my Thanksgiving dinner, but that would be a lie. I was going to get Cruchberries, but they were out of them. Crunchberries remind me of my Grandmother’s cranberry sauce and dried out turkey.” (This conversation has never happened. Guaranteed. A running joke here on the David Wygant Watch at SNC)

We proceeded to talk, and she said that she refused to let me eat Peanut Butter Bumpers for Thanksgiving … and I got invited to a Thanksgiving night party with her and seven of her friends. (That is a great story!)

I have a confession to make to all of you — I’ve done that every year I’ve been single. (Oh, what a cad!)

I actually enjoy spending Thanksgiving with total strangers. I mean, didn’t the pilgrims do that before they killed all the Indians? (White guilt--that's not tiring)Then again, my knowledge of history is a little poor at times … (Except when it involves your tedious matchmaking tales)

So if you want to know where I’ll be today, I will be spending the day with my girlfriend and having dinner with friends. (He's so much better than me and my pathetic attempts at spending time with 'family')

On a more serious note, (you were joking?) I do want to wish all of you and your families a very Happy Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is a day to be thankful, and I am thankful for many things this year. A thanks to all of you for letting me come into your hearts, minds … and your computer screens this year. (Oh, no, thank you. You've given me shitloads of material)

Also, a special thank you to all the guys who — once again in overwhelmingly large numbers (6)— were kind enough to send me the feedback I requested yesterday for the upcoming launch of my membership site. (Just a sidenote--God what a cock.)

So Enjoy Turkey Day! (Stop. Just stop. And go to hell.)

Let's Draw Straws To See Who Gets Arkansas

Russian analyst predicts decline and breakup of U.S.

MOSCOW, November 24 (RIA Novosti) - A leading (really?) Russian political analyst has said the economic turmoil in the United States has confirmed his long-held view that the country is heading for collapse, and will divide into separate parts (Listening to blowhard Russians talk sometimes is like calling home to see how the family is doing?  To get an answer to a simple question, you have to wade through a chorus of backstories, posturings, injections of themselves into completely irrelevant stories, declarations of where they stand on such and such and a mountain of qualifications just to get to an answer to the question, "How's Uncle Bob doing?".) .

Professor Igor Panarin said in an interview with the respected daily Izvestia published on Monday: "The dollar is not secured by anything (Okay.  He has a mild point here.  America's expected progress when it comes to the value of the dollar is pretty much backed solely by the expected wonderfulness of the American dollar.  Nothing can go wrong with that, huh?). The country's foreign debt has grown like an avalanche (Check.  Can't argue much with that.  I thought my 20s were irresponsible.), even though in the early 1980s there was no debt.  By 1998, when I first made my prediction, it had exceeded $2 trillion. Now it is more than 11 trillion.  This is a pyramid that can only collapse." (Okay.  Now define 'collapse'.)

The paper said Panarin's dire predictions for the U.S. economy, initially made at an international conference in Australia 10 years ago at a time when the economy appeared strong, have been given more credence by this year's events.

When asked when the U.S. economy would collapse, Panarin said: "It is already collapsing.  Due to the financial crisis, three of the largest and oldest five banks on Wall Street have already ceased to exist, and two are barely surviving.  Their losses are the biggest in history.  Now what we will see is a change in the regulatory system on a global financial scale: America will no longer be the world's financial regulator." (Um...Igor.  Europe, by nearly everyone's financial assessment, is in worse shape than us.  So who's going to take the throne?  The National Bank of Djibouti?  The 'reliably' stable markets of Russia?  C'mon.)

When asked who would replace the U.S. in regulating world markets, he said: "Two countries could assume this role: China, with its vast reserves (Possible.  Some say if they play their cards right, China's the winner here.  If they don't, they're in the crapper...like the rest of us.), and Russia, which could play the role of a regulator in Eurasia." (Now there's a country with a track record for transparency and a beacon for the greater good to take us through the next century.)

Asked why he expected the U.S. to break up into separate parts (Wow.  Not only the meanderings of the stupid, but fun stupid.  Christo excited.), he said: "A whole range of reasons.  Firstly, the financial problems in the U.S. will get worse.  Millions of citizens there have lost their savings.  Prices (What?  I just filled up for a $1.93/gallon in Elmhurst Monday.) and unemployment are on the rise.  General Motors and Ford are on the verge of collapse (20 year curve, there.), and this means that whole cities will be left without work.  Governors are already insistently demanding money from the federal center (And aren't going to get it.  Blame the stupid-ass states who thought a mandatory, constitutional balanced budget was a good idea.  And a weird 90s conservative philosophy.  Deficits aren't always bad, people!).  Dissatisfaction is growing, and at the moment it is only being held back by the elections and the hope that Obama can work miracles.  But by spring, it will be clear that there are no miracles." (This is a growing sentiment among idiots.  Apparently, Obama has exactly three months to right a disaster that took 10 years to wrought.  Only in America.  Well, apparently not.  Sit back, relax, strap it down.  We're going to be here awhile with this recession/depression/calamity/"We're all going to die!) 

He also cited the "vulnerable political setup", "lack of unified national laws", and "divisions among the elite, which have become clear in these crisis conditions." (Vague enough for ya?  Can't you use those three things to explain every kind of crisis in the history of history?  French Revolution?  Check.  Russian Revolution?  Check.  And so on and so on.  Sounds like one of my Political Science papers in college.  'Vulnerable political setup' opened every third paragraph.)

He predicted that the U.S. will break up into six parts - the Pacific coast, with its growing Chinese population; the South, with its Hispanics; Texas, where independence movements are on the rise; the Atlantic coast, with its distinct and separate mentality; five of the poorer central states with their large Native American populations; and the northern states, where the influence from Canada is strong. (BHAHAHAHA!!!!  Canada gets New York!  The Sioux gets Iowa!  The Asians get Seattle!  Texas secedes!  Well.  I might be able to get behind that.)  

He even suggested that "we could claim Alaska - it was only granted on lease, after all." (Insert Sarah Palin joke here.)

On the fate of the U.S. dollar, he said: "In 2006 a secret agreement was reached between Canada, Mexico and the U.S. on a common Amero currency as a new monetary unit.  This could signal preparations to replace the dollar.  The one-hundred dollar bills that have flooded the world could be simply frozen.  Under the pretext, let's say, that terrorists are forging them and they need to be checked." (What?  No reference to Jews taking over the world?  C'mon.  If you're going to talk like a nut-bag, at least do it right.)

When asked how Russia should react to his vision of the future, Panarin said: "Develop the ruble as a regional currency. Create a fully functioning oil exchange, trading in rubles... We must break the strings tying us to the financial Titanic, which in my view will soon sink." (And we all know how historically stable the ruble is.)

Panarin, 60, is a professor at the Diplomatic Academy of the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and has authored several books on information warfare. (Scintillating reads, I'm sure.  And is the Diplomatic Academy hiring?  Talk about a Fun.  Place.  To work!  Igor, you had me at 'Amero currency'.  You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me haaapppyy, when skies are gray...)

Lance Briggs Has the Pulse of the Team....

Has money changed them? Briggs says no

November 21, 2008
BY BRAD BIGGS

One of the big fears in free agency, as Bears general manager Jerry Angelo has testified for years, is writing a big check for the great unknown. (that's a lot different than signing sure-bet draft picks, I guess)

It's why the Bears like to reward their own players (for finishing a fantastic 7-9 in 2007), comfortably investing in what they do know. After the kind of money they spent the last two years, though, the question has to be asked: Have players become complacent after their windfalls? (the HELL you say!)

Something has to explain the same group of players falling from near the top of the NFL in defense to 19th. (yeah. It's called complacency. You answered it in your question, Brad)

''Basically, you're saying that you get some money, so you don't play as hard as you did before you got the contract,'' linebacker Lance Briggs said. ''I've heard it happens. ("What's a murder?" - Fat Tony) I can only speak for myself. I've always played the game the same way (Tasmanian Devil-like). Been no changes -- there's never going to be a change. (..especially after I bitched, moaned, threatened to leave, demanded a trade and, eventually, after holding management hostage in contract negotiations, got my way and a ton of cash thrown at me. Hell NO, you won't see me changin'!I play hard no matter what!)

''I've played with the guys here for a long time (four years), and there's no way you can convince me that these guys are playing satisfied (the preferred euphemism for 'shitty and lazy'). ... These guys, if you even look at the fourth quarter of the last game, getting beat (shellacked) 37-3, there's guys that are still fighting (in compliance with their contract) to get to that ball carrier to make some stops (in order to collect on the incentive bonuses based on number of tackles made in a season.....) . So, no. Poor execution, poor play, yes. But satisfied? Not this group.''

In his weekly visit with the media (that's big of him), Briggs reiterated that the Bears can return to greatness when they have the desire to do so. Why, then, hasn't the defense decided to turn it on yet? (nothing like a legitimate question to bring out the bullshit....here it comes.)

''We know what we have been (7-9 in a shitty division), I know what we can be (6-5 in a shitty division),'' Briggs said, ''and the thing about it is we're fighting for something right now (as opposed to the beginning of the season), and that's what we have to do. I said this defense will play great football when we decide (ooooooooh...thaaaaaat's all it takes? NOW, I get it. It's when you "decide" to play "great football". And, that doesn't seem to occur to you when you cash your payroll checks? I see. Makes sense) . Our problems are not from our coaching (sure), it's not from the technique, it's not from the defense (37 points to Green Bay, Lance, tells a different story). It is within ourselves, and that's something that we have to solve within our own selves, within our group.''

OK, so what's the holdup? (Biggs, stop it! You're making me like a SunTimes reporter....)

''I can't answer that question for you because it's an in-house problem,'' he said. ''That's something that we have to solve among ourselves.'' (Could you repeat that, please? I didn't hear it the first four times you said it.)

2032's Jeffrey Steingarten

By SUSAN DOMINUS

Everyone’s a critic, and apparently it’s never too soon to start (De-bat-a-ble!).

That’s why David Fishman, an Upper West Sider who turned 12 last month (glurp...ump...CAAAACKKK...(wipes mouth) excuse me.  I better pace myself on this one.  Could get messy.), decided to take himself out for dinner one night last week. His parents had called him at home to say they were running late, suggesting that he grab some takeout at the usual hummus place (Oh, they're soooo New York!  And Susan was soooo casual in dropping that one in.).

Hummus, again? (Ahem...) David thought he could do better than that (Fuck that fuckin' boring-ass gruel) .

He had recently passed by the newly opened Salumeria Rosi, a few blocks from his home, and had been intrigued by the reflective black back wall, the cuts of dried pork hanging from the ceiling, the little jars of cured olives and artichokes adorning the walls. If it was O.K. with his mom (and it turned out it was), he wanted to try that instead (Anyone thinking Susan's the mommy here?  Or better yet, she wants to steal little David Fishman because he's just too fucking adorable for words in her eyes.)  

David aspires to be a food critic (You'd think it would be tough to hate 12 year-olds.  I hate David...with the white-hot passion of a thousand suns.  And I don't even know him.) — he has some vague notion that he could make a living writing for the Zagat guides — and the new Italian spot on Amsterdam Avenue near 73rd Street seemed worthy of investigation (Or his forthcoming dumb-ass observations that all of us are supposed to find cute, just like Susan did.).

That night, Tuesday, turned out to be one of the first that the restaurant was open to the public. David requested a menu, which the hostess handed him, and decided that it was within his budget ($25).  Then he asked for a table for one and waited to see what she’d say.  A year before, he had been turned away from a half-empty restaurant in Montauk and told that it did not serve children unaccompanied by adults. (Hey!  Susan!  It's a liability thing, you stupid...!)  “I was angry, but I didn’t show it,” (He's so brave!) he said. “What can you do?” (And existential!  That's a deadly combo.  He'll go far in life.  Susan thinks so.)

Grown-up or not, tables were hard to come by that evening — every seat was booked, mostly by friends of the chef and owner, Cesare Casella, the Tuscan impresario behind Maremma in the West Village.  Even a boldfaced name dropped by (Tony Danza (Well...c'mon...what else does Tony have to do?), who, to the David Fishmans of the world, is just another old fogy).  But the hostess decided to squeeze in the Salumeria’s first unaccompanied customer under 4 feet 8 (...lil' chunk), as long as he promised to be out by 8 p.m.  It was a deal.

Nobody at the restaurant seemed terribly impressed by Tony Danza (Again...weeeelll...c'mon), but David Fishman — now that was something.  People tried not to stare, but couldn’t help themselves.  Where were his parents?  Was he enjoying the food?  Cash or credit? (Okay.  Was Susan at the restaurant that night?  If she was, that should probably be disclosed.  If not, knock out the atmospheric speculation!)

Normally passionate for seafood, (Somebody call the Pope.  We have a second confirmed instance of immaculate conception.  Susan just got pregnant simply by writing a story about a fucking 12 year-old aspiring food critic.  No dick or nothin'.  Just a little David in the oven.  She wants, nay, needs a little David in her life.  Because all the fawning over the little shit will, by extension, spills over onto her.) David ordered a specialty of the restaurant, a prosciutto, as well as what the menu called una insalata di rucola e parmigiano (That's the specialty?  A prosciutto, arugula and parmesan salad?  Good luck with that, guys.). “Good variety,” (I'm sold.) he wrote in the leather-bound notebook he brought along, restaurant-critic-like. “Softish jazz music.  Seem to enjoy kids but not overly.” In other words, no cloying smiles or insulting offer of grilled cheese. (WWWWHHHHHOOOOOAAAAAA!!!!!!  Fuck you fucking people that write and think this fucking shit!!!!!!  95% of all kids and parents desperately want grilled cheeese and corn dogs and mini pizzas and mini burgers and mac-n-cheese!!!!!  Shut up, shut up , shut up!  Who's next?!  And let me relay a story here.  Last night, I was waiting on a table of two parents and two kids.  As I was reciting the specials, one of the little shits kept trying to interrupt me with the typical nonsensical blather that I'm apparently supposed to find cute.  I don't know what the little shit was saying.  I wasn't paying attention.  But I did catch the last little stupid-ass nugget.  The little 4 year old said, "I want Thai food!"  As I held back the projectile vomit from that crap, the mother said, "I bet you don't have many children ask you for Thai food, do you?"  Now, I don't want to pat myself on the back too much here but...I gave her the best deadpan stare I've given in years.  Such a wonderful look of embarrassment washed over her face that it just made my night.  You fucking parents who think it's okay to let your kids think they should be treated like adults in restaurants can suck my hairy, blue-veined left nut.  But I digress.)  

An Australian couple seated beside him struck up a conversation — he had no idea how much the financial collapse here was affecting the Australian dollar! — and a young couple on the other side of his table insisted, against his polite but firm protestations, on buying him a chocolate mousse.  In turn, he recommended that they try the arugula salad (Oh JHC!  Be more saccharine, Susan!) 

The kitchen workers were so intrigued by the young adventurous eater that they sent out a bowl of complimentary tripe stew, which he enjoyed, although, he allowed, “It wasn’t my favorite.” He was a little surprised to learn, subsequently, that tripe was prepared intestines. (Alright, I won't be too tough on him (or her) here.  I waited on a 50 year-old woman who didn't know what arugula was.  Not 'didn't know the difference from spinach'.  She'd never HEARD of it!  50.  Years.  Old.) His eyes went wide. “Intestines of what?” he asked. (Somehow, that seemed to matter.) (<---Not mine...and thank all that is holy for that!)

Food is David’s life — well, food and swimming and volunteering (Just volunteering.  No specifics.  He just volunteers.) and student council and green rooftops (his school, Fieldston, has one).  But he really likes food. (Pick that up, would you Dierdre?)  At 6, he won a competition at the Crumbs Bakery for the best new cupcake concept (Well, bully for him!  I won a cake walk at Camanche Days once.) (David’s Peppermint Patty Cupcake). As a prize, he got a free cupcake every Wednesday for a year — and then, even though he wasn’t technically supposed to, for more than a year after that. Sadly, eventually all the people who worked there were replaced. “Now they don’t know anything about it,” he said (12 year-old scammer in my book...but...nothing different from any food critic I've ever experienced so he's on track.).

BUT the young foodie has cultivated a new fan in Chef Casella, a burly man who generally tours his restaurants with a trademark sprig of herb in his pocket. (Rebel.)  Mr. Casella came over the evening of David’s big night out to extend a greeting, and sent him home with a gift of fine hazelnut spread.  Though David was disappointed that the restaurant did not serve gelato, he got points with Mr. Casella for knowing a little something about Italian cuisine (What?  Because the little terd knew what gelato was?  Ugh.).

“He reminded me of me, when I was younger,” (Oh, you were a douche-bag as well?  It's important to be honest with yourself, I guess.) said Mr. Casella, who used to drive all over Europe by himself to try the best restaurants. “He is so cool, though — more confident than I am when I eat out by myself.”  (Um...really?  Butch up, Sally.)

Mr. Casella likewise made an impression on David. “He looked like a real meat guy,” (Read:  Fat-ass Italian with a protruding gut.) David said. Like a butcher? “Like a butcher-slash-guy who would eat a lot of meat,” (OH, HOLY FUCK!  If he actually said 'slash', let's employ all the 12 year-old bullies at Fieldston to beat the living shit out of this nerd.) he clarified.

As independent as David is, he is not allowed to walk around much after dark (Much?!  Given a different context, this shit would be abandonment and parental neglect.  Call DCFS.  I don't think 'much' is part of the equation.) by himself, so his mom swung by the restaurant to pick him up when he called.  Once home, he wrote up the review, Zagat-style, in his private journal, giving the restaurant a 24 out of 25 for food, and a 23 out of 25 for décor.  (A 12 year-old Gene Shalit in the making.  Or just Gene Shalit.  Six of one...)

“As I left,” he wrote, “I knew that soon enough this would be one of the most ‘hip’ places in the city.” If there was a weak spot, it was the service, in his opinion: 21 out of 25. In his notes, David remarked that the bread service was a little slow. (Yeah.  Be petty about the free shit.)

“I agree,” the chef said when presented with the critique. “We’re working on it.” (Placating 12 year-olds.  Good start, guys.)

Barack, You Complete Me....

The votes are all tallied ... now what?
Activists seek ways to redirect campaign energy

November 11, 2008
BY PAIGE WISER


Betsy Storm is elated -- and yet somehow at loose ends.

The Chicago volunteer worked on Barack Obama's campaign for 18 months, hosting college kids for "Camp Obama," (where they earned Merit Badges for "Speechifyin'" and "Hillary Bashing") making lunches for campaign staff, phone banking, traveling to Iowa (wow. That WAS a sacrifice!). She even designed a "Mamas for Obama Know the Power of Voting" (Jesus. Does this shirt need an appendix?) T-shirt that raised $1,000 for the campaign (Obama couldn't have won it without it).

Betsy ("The Hurricane") Storm collected (stole) a lot of Barack Obama memorabilia during her 18 months as a Chicago campaign volunteer. (O.J. and his posse might come looking for it, so, be armed) Those who took an active role in the campaign could have trouble filling the void after the election.

So what is she supposed to do now? (There's nothing left to accomplish, really. He won. America is back to being awesome) "The thrill of a winning campaign, especially a historic event like this one, is a tough act to follow," Storm says.

And Republicans who didn't see their candidate win office arguably feel worse. (so, let's not interview them)

Even if you weren't actively campaigning, odds are that you were keeping up with the race on the cable nightly talk shows, or obsessively clicking online for the latest poll results, or opining loudly about Sarah Palin's wardrobe ethics. (....unless, ya' know, you had a LIFE)

It was all-consuming entertainment of the first order.

And now you feel ... empty. How do you fill this void? (Spackle)

Psychologist Lester Lefton advises us to to take heart. "Americans are among the most resilient people on this planet," he says. "We will all be fine." (just look at the stock market for proof!)

You too, Republicans. "For those Americans whose candidate did not prevail, time is your best friend," Lester says. "Eventually you will adjust and recognize the country is not falling apart simply because the 'other' candidate is in office. And soon these proud Americans will begin to refocus their energies." (Finalist for "Most Condescending Remark" award for 2008!)

Miggie ("went wee-wee-wee all the way home") Greenberg, assistant professor of psychiatry at Saint Louis University (Odds of Miggie being a personal friend of Paige Wiser: 89%) , says this transitional time is an opportunity. "We can use our newly reclaimed time in other types of civic involvement, like volunteering for a cause we believe in, or we can rediscover hobbies that have been placed on the back burner (Whaaa? Because, you just didn't have time for hobbies during the election?? Jesus, people....) ," Greenberg says. "It's also important to reconnect with other people who share our same values, which can be validating." (or exclusionary)

"And, if all else fails to cheer you up, remember -- the next presidential election is only four short years away." (And, you can go back to diverting yourselves from your pathetic, worthless lives again!)

A few suggestions for post-election pastimes:

1. "The first thing to obsess on is what kind of dog they're going to get," says Marian Salzman, a futurist and trendspotter. (How do you land that gig? Seriously. Futurist? Trendspotter? Wasn't Ewan McGregor in that movie?)

2. If you're addicted to polls, visit http://www.buzzdash.com/. (and do us all a favor and stay home) It's a social polling site with more than 13,000 live polls -- and a participant named "Chicago Mike" who is given to asking questions like, "Who would win if the 1972 Dolphins played the 1942 Chicago Bears?" (......urge to kill rising.....)

3. Train for a marathon. Imagine if you redirected all that mental energy into physical energy. (If it's me, that mental energy would result in exactly one lap around my neighborhood park)

4. Publicly endorse a candidate for the Oscar race. (.............hilarious)

5. Get involved in community service. "The really wonderful thing we've learned from the Obama campaign is that people can make an incremental difference by giving $2 and $5, (I learned that in church, not a fucking political campaign....okay....now, I'm getting pissed off) ." Salzman says. "You don't have to be a large donor to make a difference. And I think that's a message of real hope for people." Betsy Storm plans to step up her work with Heifer International. (Either affiliated with Playboy or a company run by cows)

6. Work for the environment, either by greening (ugh) your own life or getting out the word to others (because there's nothing people like more than being preached to about the environment) . You can never do enough -- and it's a cause that's not likely to resolve itself anytime soon. (no shit?)

7. Fall in love. Barack and Michelle Obama, a genuinely loving partnership (as evidenced by their fist-pump), could set the tone for the country. (because, ya' know, George and Laura hated each other) This is not likely to be a "Sex and the City" era (??!?!?!) , but a time to settle down. It makes good financial sense, too. (but, fall in love first. That's the 'easy' part)

8. Spend more time with your family, and entertain at home. Until the economy sorts itself out, the emphasis will be on simple pleasures. "We'll be eating a lot of very good soup," Salzman predicts. (Trendspotter and futurist, indeed.)


(GGGGGAaaaaaaaaaaaaaHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!)

Pithy nothings.

In next president, let's see respect, not just swagger

Dawn Turner Trice
November 3, 2008

I want a president who understands that Article II of our Constitution doesn't give us an overly elaborate description of what the presidency should be. So he (or one day, she) (....hopefully, 'sir' - Simpsons reference #21 from the SNC) has to check himself, understanding that his powers are immense but not boundless. He should neither exploit them nor abuse them.

I want a president who appreciates that he is the embodiment and caretaker of an institution in which Americans of every hue see the best of our country and ourselves reflected back. (What in jumping Caesar's catfish are you talking about? I've read this sentence ten times now and I'm still lost)

I want a president who has the intellectual heft needed to help us dig out of our various holes. (I beg your pardon?) I'm not interested in a "Joe the President." (what if his last name is 'Biden'?)He and I won't ever need to sit down and have a beer, or throw back a few shots of hard liquor or even go bowling. (even go bowling?!? Whoa! Let's not say things we can't take back, there, Dawn!) We've had an everyman; we know how far a false swagger can take us.

I want a president who is curious about the world around him—a president who neither thinks as an ideologue nor speaks in sound bites; who neither believes that issues are simply black and white, nor thinks as if they are. (...not to leave the room, even if you come and get him.....Monty Python reference #26 for SNC)

I want a president who recognizes that he doesn't know everything, so he surrounds himself with people—from both sides of the aisle (because, ya' know, there are only TWO sides) and from opposing viewpoints—who can help fill in the gaps.

I want a president with whom I can "laugh with" as opposed to "laugh at." (did ya'....did ya' see what she did there? How she took the preposition...and...how she...awesome.)

I want a president who wants to hear what scientists say about global warming and then work to effect change. (even if what they hear from scientists is a load of bullshit, I still want them to effect change. And, what the fuck does 'effect change' mean, anyway? I'm getting a little tired of that empty catch-phrase.)

I want a president who appreciates green spaces and sees the importance of creating bicycle and walking pathway systems that rival our interstate highway system. (Look at me! I ride a bike!)

I want a president who has the discipline and stamina of a marathoner and the heart and dig of the best little leaguer. (Look at me! I run marathons!.....and little leaguers suck at baseball. I don't care how much heart they have. Instead, I want a Major Leaguer that falls out of bed a better ballplayer than 99% of the population.)

I want a president who loves the arts and believes in growing national treasures such as the great (now late) Studs Terkel who can write about average Americans with nuance and humanity. (What if the president thought Studs Terkel was a shitty writer? Seriously. So what? Doesn't mean he hates the arts because YOU think he's a growing national treasure, does it?)

I want a president who has convictions but knows when to let go. (...sigh)

I want a president who is loyal to his friends but not loyal to a fault. (unless I would happen to be one of his friends...then, it's okay)

I want a president who can bring an end to our wars and take the billions of dollars being spent overseas and invest them in more affordable health care and education systems here at home. If the movie 'Dave' taught us nothing else, it's that complex problems can be solved with an overly-simplistic, idealistic approach. Shouldn't we hire Charles Grodin to advise?)

I want a president who will not turn over his job to the vice president (except when going under general anesthesia). (is that another 'Dave' reference?)

I want a president who can convey to the country (and through his actions at the helm of government) that there really is no such thing as a free ride or easy credit. And beware of "No money down." (Jesus. Just watch Suzy Orman......If you need the president to tell you that, you've got a lot more problems than bad debt.)

I want a president who can explain, as he might to a daughter, why we should pay our own way so that we're not beholden to anybody. (Yes, by all means, Mr. President, talk to me like a child. I appreciate you dumbing it down)

I want a president who knows that there are still parts of our country where mountains appear purple and amber-colored grain waves and steel buildings stand at attention. And yet our true measure is not how anything looks on the outside, but who we are on the inside. (but, we still need government to take away some of my individual responsibility.....) That will be the America revered beyond our shores.

I want a president who can continue to inspire and electrify as well as remind us that even in our darkest hours there's much to believe in. (ya' know? Come to think of it, a president full of bullshit would be a nice change of pace! I can't recall an unrealistically positive, rah-rah State of the Union Address in my lifetime. A change would be nice!) It's not enough that tens of millions of people have viewed the presidential debates and already have come out in early voting. (sure it is. Ratings. Mean. Everything.) After Tuesday, the real work begins and Americans must stay engaged.

Most of all, I want a president who—after solemnly swearing or affirming that he will faithfully execute the office of president of the United States and will, to the best of his ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States—goes about the business of doing so. (I think Dawn needed to fulfill her word count quota....best to just copy and paste the Oath of Office into the column.)