Pancake City

I tuned in late to President Bush’s SOTU address and entertained myself by getting a running tally of standing ovations vs. smirks. It was 17 standing ovations to 14 smirks when he said he supported a constitutional amendment against gay marriage and some Republicans leapt out their seats and erupted in glee.

I haven’t seen people get this excited about discrimination since the 1950s. It’s too bad our leaders don’t get as excited about reducing the budget deficit. Bush mentioned “deficit” once and “freedom” 21 times. If only someone could get him to view the issue as “Freedom…from deficits!” or to reframe tax cuts as “Freedom cuts” we would be getting somewhere.

I wonder how long the President’s mention of a gay-marriage amendment will go to satiate the religious conservatives who threatened to withhold supporting his Social Security proposal if he doesn’t submit an amendment to Congress. (Evidentially, Jesus hates Social Security and gays.) I almost feel sad for the conservatives that thinks he really cares about it. Bush is going on daily trysts with his Social Security privatization proposal, doodling hearts over its name, spending all his time daydreaming about it, fantasizing about gliding his fingertips over Privy’s rippling muscles that will tear Social Security apart out of love for him.

Then he gets home to Ms. Anti-Gay Marriage, her hair in curlers and covered by a fishnet cap, her pink bathrobe tightly knotted at the waist to squeeze in her corpulent belly. She is on the verge of tears. “I need to know: do you love me?” George sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.” She grabs his shirt, almost pulling it off with her pudgy, chocolate-covered fingers on it. “Then take me.”

George muffles his revulsion. All that escapes is an almost imperceptible shudder. “How about next week? I’m really tired” he says and runs off to the bedroom before she can argue.

He pulls the covers tightly over his head. She pays the rent, but he won’t need her for ever. “Just a few more months. A few more months.”

I like how Haloscan says “Comment successfully posted” after sending a comment. It makes me feel like when I had to bounce a rubber ball in preschool 20 times in a row as part of a hand-eye coordination test, and I did it! That was the day the extra cup of juice was mine.

More computer programs should be like that. When you turn on your computer, the first message shouldn’t be “File corrupted” or “ERROR at 07DE:0850″ (I use Windows) but “Nice job pressing that power button!” Starting Photoshop: “Who’s that cutie opening me up?” Deleting a file: “Did you do that all by yourself? Good job!”

And, most important of all, the 3.5 in. disk drive should be replaced with a cookie dispenser. Separate juice holder unneccessary. That’s what CD-ROM drives are for.