Palin’s prurient priests are aghast at silly Liberal suggestions that Sarah’s cute and entertaining use of the word Cross-Hairs to describe her Bulls-Eye approach to “taking out” liberal Senators could have had anything to do with Senator Gabby Gifford’s shooting.  (Google Sheriff/Giffords).

Said one of Palin’s Passionate Paramours yesterday, as I tried to get an order filled at a local electrical supply house;

“I am embarrassed by what the Sheriff said. How does he know anything about it? We don’t know anything about what motivated the shooter yet. I wish he would wait before he starts blaming people. It could have been anything !”

I gazed across the counter at this Retail Clerk. He was visibly distressed. Pulse rapid, face flushed, eyes beady. All the symptoms; he was obviously in deeply enamored with the Palin and felt called upon in a manly way to leap to her defense.

I pretended to think a moment, then I said, “I know what you mean. People get the weirdest ideas. For example…you play that video game Grand Theft Auto?”

He brightened, “Yeah, I do !” He was smiling now, eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, a little elfin grin growing in place of the tight lipped action he had been providing moments ago.

I continued my lead, “Well it’s just like that. Just because you like to play a game where you get to steal cars and drive around looking for gorgeous women to beat to death with clubs doesn’t mean you would ever actually do something like that.”

His little head bobbed up and down like a cheap wooden puppet’s. His elfin grin vanished and a boyish
expression of denial replaced it.

“Damn right I wouldn’t! It just helps me unwind ! Grand Theft Auto has nothing to do with anything !
That’s what I told the judge the other day at the hearing, but I could tell she was a Liberal and it didn’t do any good.”

I was non-nonplussed.

“Judge?”

He shuffled his feet a little and went back to the paperwork for my order.

“Uh-huh. My wife got a restraining order against me just because I gave her a little tap with a stick from the yard the other day. And all it did was leave the tiniest little bruise. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t provoked. She was wearing a little tiny skirt and wanted to go shopping dressed like that. My wife, dressed like a hooker. Well, I just picked up the first thing that came to hand and whacked her with it. Not hard, just a little whack. Then she got all upset and started screaming at me, right there in the front yard. It was embarrassing! She just went on and on…I was afraid the neighbors would start coming out, so I whacked her again. It was a mistake, I see that now.”

He was done with the paperwork and pushed it across the counter at me. He was back to the grim and red-faced fellow he had been when I walked in.

“So….she must have…?

“Yeah.. Moved out and got a restraining order. Told the judge I played Grand Theft Auto too much. Bunch of crap, but now I have to go to anger management. Just wait till that little hussy moves back in. Next time, I know better than to use a stick on her for dressing like a hooker.”

I signed for the order and gave him his copy. “What will you do?” I had to know.

He smiled a sneaky kind of smile. “I talked to our minister. He said he would talk to her about being obedient and more proper in the way she treats her Spiritual Leader. That’s what a good husband is, you know.”

He was smiling again, looking forward to a home-life with a properly obedient wife and more video fun, whacking immodest and wicked women with clubs…the thing of dreams come true.

Image via Wikipedia

I never give a gift that isn’t up to my high standards.  This gives me a great excuse to buy presents for people and use them before I give them away.

So it is that every Christmas I get to try out some neat stuff I…just to be sure I’ll like it before I get it for me. (My standards are even higher for my own stuff).

The job that has kept me from writing this column for so long requires me to drive hither and thither across the Desert to addresses obscure and difficult to find….especially for JP, who as we know, has his head…..in a cloud. (Not what you where you were thinking !)

The solution, of course, is for me to have a GPS like all the other monkeys on the road. But which?

And so I have waited for Christmas these long months to have the chance to try one out.

Of course, being Frugal, I shopped for the best deal and got a nice little Unit that was originally destined for the British Isles.

I know this because the voice that gives me directions has the most delicious British accent you can imagine. Her name is Flo.

I had chaffed not a little at the thought of having a spectral voice telling me when to turn and where to go; I am used to people telling me where to go, but they generally are quite visible (not to mention vocal).

Imagine my surprise when Flo first suggested that I “Hold to the left lane” in a soft-sultry British accent, breathlessly urging me toward my destination! I had expected that hard, steely American Voice that usually says something like “City and State Please” in tones that remind you that you are probably too lazy and illiterate to look up a phone number. The kind of voice that says in tone and spirit, “don’t call back…”.

But not Flo. Her tone was warm. Her voice had the airy quality of a lover’s when she says, “Why, yes, it is bit warm in here…”. Her inflection was strident, urgent; it called out to all the gentleman in me (a small portion, I admit) and positively screamed at my hormones….I spun the wheel to the left like an adolescent in a parked car on a blind date…..fast, I mean….nearly crashing into a couple of Snowbirds in a Hummer. They gave me the regular Bird and passed on.

But I was in the spell that all good men succumb to whenever there is a breathless British Vixen on the loose….and I found myself all a-quiver, anxious for Flo to tell me, in that special way of hers, to “Turn left, then hold in the right lane…”

Too soon, I was home. My glands had been producing steadily for the half-hour drive home from the store. I parked in the driveway. Inside awaited real people, warm and friendly and well known to JP.
The loving hearth of home.

In the Truck, Flo spoke up….”You have reached your destination…Would you like to choose another route?”

With a start I realized that Flo wanted to keep riding around with me! Her tone was inviting…why not go for a ride? What harm a few more miles with this sexy British Temptress?
I started the engine and slid silently out of the drive. Another destination indeed.

And then I wondered….would Flo scold me for taking a wrong turn? Would she use a Pouting, Pleading tone with me if I refused to “Hold to the Left Lane”? Would she beg piteously if  ignored her pleas?  I had to know.

I won’t tell you if she did. I will tell you that if you don’t follow Flo’s directions you will get lost. Very lost,  if you are really bad and turn the wrong way at every chance.

I’m lost now, in fact. I can’t bring myself to do as Flo says, so sweet is her constant, pleading reminder to “Turn Around at Your First Opportunity”. You should hear her breath “opportunity”.  It is too much.  I shall never get home.

Image by MagdaMontemor via Flickr

In the wake of the US financial meltdown, brought on by the Bankers, Bonuses for these Bozos have been unpopular with the populace.

With tons of Government Play Money to throw around, these same bankers are loath to pass up the Bonus Wagon this year but have been hard-pressed to sell the idea to the public.

Thankfully, Madison Avenue has come to the rescue and it looks like everything is going to come out alright for the Boys at the Top after all.

With the public so set against these poor folks, it took the very best advertising minds to come up with a way to sell this Satan’s Pay Package, but they have done it.

Here is a transcript of the meeting between ……………..and an un-named advertising firm; the subject is Bonuses and how to get them…you are the fly on the wall…JP was the Janitor in a Drum and got it all down on tape while he lurked nearby….

The room is a small conference room in an Investment Bank in New York. Seated around it are half a dozen Suits. They are early for the Ad firm’s presentation, and “early” is a thing they never do. People wait for them, not vice-versa. But today they are all abuzz; the ad firm hired to package the idea of giving them bonuses has called….they have a solution.

A team of three smiling Advertising Gurus tramples in; a Suit who looks like the Bankers, to make them comfortable and someone to relate to; a younger guy in Dockers and a tee-shirt that says “Free Tibet” and a very pretty lady about thirty in a tight-fitting business suit, to give the bankers a lift.

The Ad-man-in-a-Suit begins; “Gentlemen, we have the solution. Not only will your Bonuses become palatable to the American Public, who will be paying for this for decades, but they will clamor for it. We are going to tap the American people’s soft spot; charity.”

There was a murmur amongst the Bankers. Those who had been watching the Ad-man averted their eyes. Those who had been getting a little lift by making eyes at the beautiful woman, who was busy passing out colorful little binders, tore their gaze from her lithe form and zeroed in on the Ad-man. His suit looked suddenly Cheap, somehow.

“Charity?!” expostulated the most junior of the Banker bunch, eager to show the others what a Tiger he was.

“Charity?!” exploded the most senior of the Banker bunch, not to be outdone by a fellow who’s bonus was only in the low six-figures.

“Charity!” Coo’d the lithesome Blond in the Spandex business suit, expansively, standing at the head of the table, crowding out the Ad-man with spreading arms, like a happy bunny making a “snow angle” . It was impossible for the Bankers not to give her their closest attention, as her posture, smile and figure were truly outstanding. She was the best the Ad people had and they had deployed her expertly. She had their attention.

“Charity, boys, is encouraged by the Tax Code.” She smiled down at them coyly, a Siren with a brain. She put her hand on her hip and thrust her athletic body slightly out of line, brushing a stray, windblown lock of hair from her Regal face. Her Spandex business suit looked expensive and expertly tailored. The most Senior Banker came out of his trance first.

“Tax Code!” He thundered, “Of course!” He feasted his eyes on the blond, who was giving him a bright, beaming, congratulatory smile.

“That’s right!” she went on, happily, walking around the room, bending over the shoulder of each banker in turn, opening the little binders she had passed out earlier. The little crew of financiers followed her every move as she went about, gracefully bending over six times, brushing her luxuriant hair past six men who’s goose she had come to save. For a price.

“Tax Code.” She said it again, this time standing in front of the large window, the light from the outside wreathing her with angelic rays. These ad men were truly great ad men.

“The US Tax Code allows generous deductions on income when the taxpayer makes contributions to charity. Our accountants will structure your bonuses to Decrease your tax liability to such an extent that you will actually be getting more money in your pocket than if you simply tried to get away with all your bonus. And you will look like heros, reaching down to help the nations most needy. Your social conscience will be established as among the finest.”

The bankers were all leafing through the pamphlets she had given them. The most Junior had his Blackberry out and was busily crunching the numbers, testing the theory. He meant to get his puny six-figure bonus into the low Sevens.

All round the bankers were abuzz. The Blond chatted with the Most Senior Financier, who was so pleased with the presentation that he was offering to treat her to lunch at his private club. She cast a glance at the rest of her team. The Most Senior interrupted the Most Junior financier and sent him to take the other two ad-men to lunch somewhere else.

He turned his best “captain of industry” smile onto the upturned face of this Superwoman who had come to save them from a harsh and frugal world.

“Come, my dear. We must talk about your career. Have you ever thought of Banking?”

Image via Wikipedia

Related articles by Zemanta

• Banker Bonus Purchases: Follow The Money Trail (huffingtonpost.com)