Dear readers,

I’m overworked and exhausted to the point of hugging strange dogs out of sheer desperation. (See visual proof here.) And you know what needs to happen when I feel this way. Right you are, you get to cheer me up by voting in a new poll. You can see it in the sidebar. 

Let me remind you that it makes me really really happy when I see people vote on my polls. I have no explanation for this endearing quirk but I will share it if I chance upon it.

Does anybody know what this is? Have you ever tried it?

Obama comes to a bank and tries to withdraw some money.

“Can I see your ID?” the teller asks.

“I left it at home,” Obama says. “But I’m President Obama, don’t you recognize me?”

“I’m sorry,” the teller says. “Could you demonstrate some skill that would prove you are Obama?”

“Like what?” the President asks.

“Well, the other day Tiger Woods came by and he hit a golf ball straight into a small wine glass. Then Pelé came by and he put a soccer ball straight into a garbage bin on the other side of the road.”

“OK, I have no idea what to do in this situation,” Obama says.

“Oh, President Obama!” the teller exclaims. “So good to see you! Do you prefer twenties or one hundred dollar bills?”

 

One of Putin’s favorite weapons in his arsenal of humiliating everybody he comes in touch with is being from 1 to 6 hours late to all of his appointments. In Russia, his chronic tardiness is notorious. One of his favorite trick is to announce that he will be at some public event, surround the place where the event occurs with a crowd of security personnel, and let the guests, the performers, the athletes or whomever to stew in their juices for 3-4 hours until he deigns to arrive.

Finally, however, there is somebody who has the backbone to stand up to Putin.

After dropping my car at the mechanic’s, I found myself marching down the highway towards our town. Thankfully,  two gentlemen in a worn truck stopped and offered me a ride. We all huddled in the front seat and rumbled into town.

In the back of the truck there was a beautiful dog called Snowbear:

She was the quietest, politest dog in the world.

Here is me with Snowbear:

I haven’t slept at all tonight thanks to an ill-considered cup of chai I had at 10 pm, hence the exhausted look.

I think this adventure counts as hitchhiking,  and that makes me feel very American.

I wish public radio just accepted advertisement instead of running these endless programs soliciting donations. At least, advertisement offers me value instead of just wasting my time.

I just listened to an endless segment on donations only to discover that a program on the evils of “oversexualized music” that perverts 7-year-olds was to follow.

I’m not in the best of moods as it is because I’m on my way to a car mechanic and, as it turned out, the only mechanic in the area that is qualified to service my car is “a luxury vehicle auto service” with a pretentious frenchified name.