Be Not Unhappy, Child of Bosnia

Hello, gentle readers. Have you heard about the war on bloggers? Take arms, gentle readers, and hoist the flag of our feisty fiefdom high - war approaches. Do we have a flag? Is our Latin emblazoned upon a saucy tabard? Do we have merchandise? Oh ho ho. Patience, my pets.

As you are so concerned with my health, it behooves me to inform you that I have resumed my strict exercise regimen, which basically consists of me throwing myself forward on a treadmill until my lungs clench up and I vomit. Not really, but, Rocky-like, I must force myself through the struggle of tiger eyes (in my case, remixes of the Still Alive song from Portal) or whatever to beat up a Russian. Fuck that, I'll just eat myself skinny. This plan makes total sense. MMM CELERY, THE DIET HELPER THAT SPRANG FROM THE BLOOD OF SWIFT KADMILOS.

Speaking of conflict (not so much of swift Kadmilos), have you heard any of the strange meta-debate going on over that photo of Barack Obama where he is apparently cosplaying as Fireflower Mario. It's not a debate about the debate that might be debated if the photo (linked to) were debatable. And all of this, mind you, is for the primaries - I begin to wish that I'd registered democrat back on that sunny day that I registered to vote, just so I'd say that I participated in this slapdash chaos. Also, since we're dishing about candidates, I would just like to say that I do not hate John McCain. He is a welcome change from the "Let's nominate the most vile cretin available" modus operandi of the republican party. While still a vile cretin, he is at least able to talk for ten minutes without making me want to punch him in the face. So. There's that.

Regardless of how the upcoming election goes, I will hereby commit only to this statement - I voted for the other person who would doubtlessly be doing a better job of being president. It is a brave stance to take, one that requires careful research and planning, of estimating how each candidate will perform if elected. You have to know their stances on the war in Iraq, the economy, health care, and what they are doing with our tarnished reputation, at home and abroad. And you have to be cynical - this is, perhaps, the worst part. While everyone else is participating at their rallies and having fun, I have to be skulking, jackal-like, on the very edge of their warm bonfires, ready to leap upon the winning party with my clucking tongue and furrowed brow. The other candidate would have done so much better. Our politics have gotten to the point where presidential preference has become an indicator of personal merit - any nincompoop who voted for Bush in either election must be properly apologetic, or risk being labeled a dangerous inebriate - and that as soon as any candidate actually becomes president, their greatest flaws are immediately seized upon and exaggerated. Kinda depressing. Thankfully there is beer. OR IS THERE? We stand at the precipice of a bold new future, one where we must face our failures without the aid of sweet sweet beer - planning ahead and making careful decisions are the only way that we can possibly hope to avoid regret.

I kind of want to punch myself in the face. Until next time, gentle readers - there will be a theme week! It will be terrible!