What the hell? "...keeping dynamite in homes, though illegal, is common in China...."

House of Idiots
The United States remains locked in a deadly struggle with anti-democratic forces around the globe. Vital portions of our infrastructure (chemical refineries come to mind) remain perilously vulnerable to potential terrorist attack. Innocent people are starving and being violently slaughtered in the Darfur region of Sudan. We have an ever-increasing trade deficit with the People's Republic of China. Petroleum prices are near all-time highs (those highs being set just days ago), and yet our economy remains utterly dependent on petroleum. It seems as if the war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo will never end. Jerry Falwell is still allowed to walk to streets free of the threat of immediate arrest and public execution for the crime of being an idiot and hate-monger.

All this is going on and yet Congress has nothing better to do than question Mark McGwire about his freakishly inhuman physique? Balderdash! At this point I would like to renew my call for the repeal of Article I of the United States Constitution, thus replacing Congress with a legislative body composed of the cast of Scrubs. Zach Braff for Speaker of the House!

Bitching About My Mom
I will never never never never in a million years understand what goes on inside my mother's head. On Tuesday, she mentioned that her boss wanted to get rid of a queen-sized mattress and box spring; we could put it in the Mountain's room! Her tone suggested that these items would be the key to solving a puzzle that had confounded me and thwarted my schemes for quite some time. Me, I hardly gave a rat's arse what bed was in my brother's room. On Wednesday, she announced with glee that the mattress and box spring were ours for the claiming. This evening after everyone got home from work, Meine Vater and I took the Woody over to her boss's house, strapped the merchandise onto the roof, threw an ornate bed frame into the back, and drove it all home at 20 m.p.h. Of course, a lot of my stuff is stored in the Mountain's room and in the year and a half I have been home I have been slowly but surely organizing it all. A place for everything and everything in its place, I say. The tolerances between objects (the existing bed and my boxes of comics, the dresser and a shelving unit) were very precise, very tight. Now with a queen bed to replace the existing twin, the entire arrangement is obsolete.

So, my darling mother has a new mattress and box spring, apparently the key to her happiness, and I am left with the unenviable task of reordering the entire room. This is what I hate about my mother, and here I really do mean HATE. She devises these projects, but then does not lift a single blasted finger to bring them to fruition. Neither my dad nor I wanted a queen-sized bed in that room, she did. Yet Dad and I had to strap it to the Woody and once home haul it up the stairs, not her. I thought the room was fine the way it way, she didn't. Yet, I am the one who is going to have to spend hours culling through what's in there to get rid of as much as possible and then rearrange the rest to fit the new bed, not her. She originated this project, she made sure it happened, and yet she hasn't done and won't do any of the work involved, not one little bit.

I love my mom, but she can be a real asshole.