By Bree Hocking
California is burning, the markets are tumbling, our splendid little wars drag on, and just about everybody in public life is certifiably nuts. Yes kids, it’s been another glorious week in America.
A shout out goes to the Christie Brinkley-Peter Cook divorce trial. Peter you gave us enough sleaze and greed and infidelity to hold us till August. Well done. But Christie, you actually take the cake – showing up in those fabulous June Cleaver outfits and toting that ridiculous dinosaur diorama into court as proof of your superior parenting skills. Sorry Christie, but I had a hard time mourning the death of this marriage, despite your fakey, baby doll-voiced entreaties. That psychologist was right: You both need help.
Which is exactly what us regular Joes might need after the recent news that the EPA has lowered “the value of a statistical life” by a cool million, which means that keeping us alive by reducing those dangerous toxins…not so important anymore. What’s really important is that the economically deprived Rep. Charlie Rangel (D-N.Y.) gets to keep his four rent-stabilized apartments in Harlem. But it’s OK because to paraphrase the honorable Phil Gramm: it’s all in our heads anyway.
Props to Rev. Jesse Jackson and his little hissy fit about his plans for Obama’s testicles. Jackson’s meltdown serves as a nice reminder about the dangers of the green-eyed monster and the crazy things it can do to you. Strange how it can turn otherwise noble-minded Baptist ministers who just want to fight for civil rights into potty-mouthed pouters.
Not that either presidential contender was taking the high road this week. First Obama scolded McCain for his Dr. Phil-like tendencies. Then McCain, in a particularly cunning move, shot back that Obama was just another incarnation of Dr. No. Take that. Oh, and McCain might not actually be a natural-born citizen, but it’s too late for anyone to actually care.
Still, just in case this race gets out of hand, it’s good to know we have other options. This weekend, the Greeners are expected to give their presidential nod to ex-Rep. Cynthia McKinney, the cellphone samurai herself, and her running mate, the “hip-hop” artist Rosa Clemente.
So I guess we can all breathe a sigh of relief. Some sanity enters the picture at last.
