Hypocrisy for $500, Alex

Today’s smarmy little performance by Sen. Ted Cruz stands out from all his other smarmy little performances as a great example of something I’ve believed for a long time: politicians think voters are stupid.  Time and again they demonstrate that they believe we’ll fall for anything dressed up in a few well-worn catchphrases, that we don’t remember anything that happened before breakfast.

You didn’t have to watch every minute of every Republican presidential candidates’ debate to know that they savaged each other on those stages, that there was real personal dislike and lack of respect.  Granted, Donald Trump was the nastiest and most obvious about it, but he was not the only candidate who tried to pull him-or-herself up by tearing their opponents down.  Only weeks later Fiorina endorses Cruz for the office; then on the day after he was mathematically eliminated from any chance of capturing the nomination on the first ballot at the Cleveland convention, Cruz decides to present her as his choice for the second spot on the ticket, the person he feels confident about placing one heartbeat from the presidency.  Today the two of them behaved as if they’ve been secret members of the other one’s fan club all along, and they expect we’re going to just forget what they said about the other, with such conviction and passion, such a short time ago.

Which is it: were you being honest with us when you were trying to tear your opponent a new one, or are you telling the truth now about your respect and admiration for that same person?  It’s one or the other, can’t be both.  All I know for sure at this point is what you’ve taught me: you can’t be trusted to tell the truth.  Neither can the so-called journalists covering the story, who aren’t calling you on your hypocrisy, as they should.

This is how nothing gets done

OK…finally, I’m going to write; I don’t even know what’s been so important for the past week that I couldn’t find time to write, or even to start to write.  But today is different: as soon as I let the dogs out I’ll be nailed to the keyboard—about time I wrote about this amazing revolution in Egypt and linked to those articles backgrounding the Muslim Brotherhood before Mubarak flees and a new government is already in power.

That was weird: a broken fence slat.  Looks like something on the other side of the fence, where they’re building the new road, slammed into the middle of that fence slat and broke it in two; hell, the big piece was knocked out into the garden.  I’ll just get a hammer from the garage and nail it back in, and then hit the blog—maybe something about the deafening cognitive dissonance of all the talk about “high taxes” while today’s news reports that our tax burden is lower than it’s been since 1950!

You’d think a grown man would be smart enough to, first, change out of his dress shoes before stepping into the garden, and second, be careful enough to avoid the dog poop obstacle course between the back door and the back fence.  After I clean off my shoes and walk around to check out the other side of the fence, I’m back at the blog—gotta check on the reaction to the story that new government spending under Obama has been less than the tax cuts under Obama!

Wow; I learned more about the neighbors in the last 20 minutes than I have in the whole nine years we’ve lived here.  Dude just kept talking, changing from one subject to another, with no apparent destination in mind.  I like the guy, but it was too cold for just standing there for a chat.  Now, just let me get this mess on the desk cleared off and I’ll get to work…I should riff on David Frum’s post about how the crazy talk on the talk shows is getting even crazier as the ratings start to slide.

I had a nagging feeling I’d forgotten something: well, now’s a good time to get that stack of papers off of the kitchen counter.  Some think getting a  new job is a pain in the neck, but I have a much lower opinion of it.  Forms for new health insurance, and receipts, and registration info for the new 401(k).  At least I can do that quickly on line, and then start writing…what’d I do with that article about the brain being wired to resist new science?  That can mesh with the story about the people who insisted on believing—despite the absence of any evidence—that a terrorist attack was being plotted in a Port Arthur Ramada Inn conference room…15 years ago!

OK then, I’m going to start with—was that the dryer?