Let the record show that it’s Sunday, Jan. 18, and this is undeniably a blog post. This keeps alive my string of daily consecutive posts since the start of the year. And thus my New Year’s resolution to post every stinking day. So suck on that.
It was a day distinguished by the Philadelphia Eagles’ ignoble loss to the Cardinals — a team named not after a city, but a state jam-packed with oldsters. Arizona is the new Florida. Or maybe Florida is the old Arizona, I can never be sure. It’s enough to to say that if you’re going to cheer for laundry, you might as well cheer for laundry that wins. All hail Pittsburgh. On Super Bowl Sunday, I will be watching C-SPAN instead.
Since there were no good games to watch, we occasionally switched over to stations carrying the orgasmic celebration of Barack Obama’s inauguration. Let me just say this: Stevie Wonder is fat. Bruce Springsteen is not a working man. Samuel Jackson is wearing the same Kangol hat he was born in. The inexorable march of time hasn’t improved Sheryl Crowe.
It’s sad that the adoration of celebrities is not enough to create a great presidency. If it were, everything would be jake this morning, and we could look for the Dow to surge 1,000 points. All the boys would be coming home from Iraq, and somebody else would be making my house payments.
But maybe it’s better to wait. Maybe we should see what the man can accomplish before we decide he’s already done it. And if I read one more time that Obama’s moment “is one that I never thought would come,” I will puke. Yeah, it’s a great moment, historic and everything. Who could have seen it coming? It was also great when he was nominated. And when he accepted the nomination. And when he’ll be sworn in. Can we give it a rest now? Can we treat the man as a president, instead of an affirmative-action poster boy? I’m just saying.
I feel stupid, and contagious