An open letter to President Obama

It felt good to say that--"President Obama". I felt compelled to write this letter to our new president.

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Dear President Obama,

I write to you today in a spirit of great hope for the future. You have made it clear that we are faced with many grave and daunting tasks, and you have promised to begin work immediately. I applaud you for your determination and your honesty in facing the difficult times ahead, and the forthright way in which you call upon we, the people, to pitch in and work together.

There are many pressing issues. You will be called upon immediately to take steps to right the economy. There are millions of Americans lacking health care. Our brave military is still engaged in Iraq and Afghanistan. And you're still going to have to do a lot of damage control after the whole Rick Warren thing. Yes, you are.

Truly, there are dozens of issues requiring your immediate action and attention. You said today

"We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness."

Your phrase "childish things" struck a chord in me, and in that spirit, as a proud and vigilant American voter, I have only one request of your administration.

Please do something about the clowns. Specifically, the abstinence-only clowns.

I recently learned that the outgoing administration has spent nearly $1.5 billion on abstinence-only sex education. That money has been doled out to a variety of organizations like Elizabeth's New Life Center, which got a grant for $800,000. And that money helped pay the salary of a clown named Derek Dye, proud graduate of Barnum & Bailey Clown College, so that Derek could toss out bon mots to middle schoolers, like "Sex before marriage will destroy all of your life’s dreams!” while wearing a bad sweater vest and juggling bowling pins. Derek is pictured here:

And you can see a video of his mad juggling skillz here:



My bride, reading this over my shoulder and seeing the video of Mr. Dye, piped up. She said, and I quote, "I'd take abstinence-only education a lot more seriously if anyone who looked like they had even a remote chance of getting f*cked was promoting it." Mr. President, I've learned to trust her judgment on things like this.

So there you have it, Mr. President. Do our nation proud, and stop the madness. We're only one executive order away from an abstinence-only clown-free America.

God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.


*Thanks to Splotchy for the heads-up.

Ten Favorite Things

It's been a while since I got on one of these things. Lulu, Wonderturtle and Tenacious S have all composed some wonderful lists so far.

Here is mine:

Ten favorite things starting with the letter S:

The Sazerac. I've mentioned them before, and in my opinion it's a perfect cocktail:

• 2 oz rye whiskey (bourbon will do in an emergency)
• ½ oz bar syrup
• absinthe (you can use Absente or Herbsaint)
• 3 drops Peychaud's Bitters
• Twist of lemon peel

1. Put a few drops of absinthe in a rocks glass and swirl to coat the glass.
2. Mix the whiskey, syrup and bitters in a cocktail shaker over ice until chilled.
3. Pour into rocks glass over two ice cubes. Rub rim of glass with lemon peel.
4. Enjoy!

Sex: Well, duh. Seriously, I'm fascinated with it, all its complexity, joys and horrors. My love of all things sexy and sleazy is ironic, though, given that I'm also offended by the increasing pornification of our culture, and I'm fairly modest in my personal life.

Slot machine noise: That exciting, omnipresent noise inside every big casino. Every once in a while I'll hear something that reminds me of it—a cell phone ring, a video game—and I'll be instantly transported to that wonderful moment when you first walk into a casino.

Skillets. Big iron skillets. We have a nice collection of well-seasoned cast iron skillets, and I use them nearly every day. They feel great in your hand when you're cooking, and they have a great old look. Plus Wanda Jackson had a great song about beating her husband with one.

From My Big Iron Skillet:

There's gonna be some changes made
When you get home tonight
Cause I'm gonna to teach you wrong from right

With my big iron skillet in my hand
Gonna show you how a little woman
Can whip a great big man
If you live through the fight
We're gonna have when you get home
You'll wake up, and find yourself alone

Sweet tea: Summertime in the south. I can only drink it when the temperature goes over 90.

Sunshine: I've always liked being outside, and I dig that near-blinding sunbaked feeling you get in places like Las Vegas, or the combination of sunshine and water in places like the Florida keys. I seem to crave it more as I get older.

Swamps: Why am I so attracted to a landscape that, frankly, scares the shit out of me? Snakes and alligators. Fever, bourbon and decay. Mmmm... I've been in mangrove swamps in Florida, and Cypress swamps in Louisiana. I like the cypress swamps better.

Shotguns: BOOYAH! There is not much in this world more fun and satisfying than shooting a big-ass 12 gauge shotgun. I own two of them, a Remington 870 tactical shotgun (think Ving Rhames in the Dawn of the Dead remake) and an antique Winchester Model 12.

Splatter movies: The wetter, the better. I want so much gore and grue flying off the screen you feel like you need a raincoat.

Summertime: And the living is easy. Catfish, barbecue, sweet tea, drinking on the back porch. Sleepy dogs.