January 22, 2004
hippie chicky steps up to the plate
Oh politics. I make rules about when and where I can talk about them. Since I have no food, no drink, no guests, and am neither sitting at a dining table or having a chat with a new friend while standing (having no guests would preclude that, wouldn't it?), I'm deciding that I can write this now.
Oooooooooh, just you wait Mr. G. W. Bush! One day it will all dawn on you; you'll realize the terrifying villian that you are; you'll go down in history as the man more cruel than the one he deposed; you'll discover that it's for so many reasons that they cannot be listed here.
He's worse than I am. Really.
Bad, punk bastard. I hate him!
And, in related news, I hate CBS, too. They won't play angry-with-the-president-type advertising during the Superbowl. It's only worth watching the Superbowl for the ads and this time I won't be able to bear watching it for the ads. Fascists at CBS.
Here's the ad they refuse to play. Cold, hard cash provided to CBS for the service, just like all the other cash, and yet, they won't play it. I know that they don't have to play it, but they show political advertising, yes? Yes, they do. And actually I don't know the policies on how political advertising works, so maybe I should be more outraged than I am.
Oh, my soap box is getting all lathered up. I'm going to step off the public soap box. I don't want to be incoherent. I'll leave that for our president. I'll stay angry and feisty and snippy and I shall continue to take umbridge. Where to take it, though!
But, as promised, the commercial they wouldn't play!
(On a less political and more absurd note, I encourage you to take a gander at this site. The ninth from the top left makes me laugh. Everyone in the world is a dope.)
