Thursday, October 25, 2012

Oh, gracious!

Apparently in an interview in the new issue of Rolling Stone, President Obama called Mitt Romney a "bullshitter."

The exact passage is this:

I was reminded of this incident when our interview with the president ended. As we left the Oval Office, executive editor Eric Bates told Obama that he had asked his six-year-old if there was anything she wanted him to say to the president. After a thoughtful pause, she said, "Tell him: You can do it."
Obama grinned. "That's the only advice I need," he said. "I do very well, by the way, in that demographic. Ages six to 12? I'm a killer."
"Thought about lowering the voting age?" Bates joked.
"You know, kids have good instincts," Obama offered. "They look at the other guy and say, 'Well, that's a bullshitter, I can tell.'"

So essentially, Obama doesn't call Romney a bullshitter by name. It's kind of a bank shot, and an off-the-cuff, post-interview comment, at that. But in an interview about the election, it's obvious who he's talking about, if it's anyone in particular.

I'm all in favor of this. "Bullshit" cuts across the high bar necessary to prove the term "liar." A politician can say a half a dozen true things, but by omitting many other facts of reality, those details, while each individually true, when mixed with a few unverifiable assertions, can become a steaming stew of bullshit. Not a single "lie" in the recipe, but it's still not anything you want to swallow.

I've long said that politicians should be freer with the B word (and the somehow more rustic H word, horseshit). It wouldn't elevate our discourse in terms of politeness...but being willing to label a talking point bullshit gives the audience a euphemism they instinctively understand -- with a touch of shock to the language to get them to pay attention. (Probably too much shock, at first -- the national conversation will be all about the word than the claim itself, which is self-defeating. At first, anyway.)

Perfume makers use a base of civet underlying a scents' pleasant overtones, because biologically or nostrils open to the odor -- it smells foul, and dangerous. It awakens our senses, and lets us smell the more delicate scents more fully. Maybe we need to hear the word bullshit now and then, just to get us to open our noses.


Friday, October 19, 2012

Rolling Away

Just got back from getting my new car inspected. I’m really happy to have it, and it’s going to serve me well for many years, I’m sure.

But yesterday, I donated my old car, a Chevy Cavalier Rally Sport, to the American Lung Association, and even knowing how sentimental I can be, I was surprised at how much it pained me to say goodbye.

I bought the car in January of 1999, just a few weeks into dating Kathy. I’d been in an accident that didn’t hurt anyone, but had totaled my previous car. I needed a new one, quick, because Kathy lived close to two hours away, and I had no intention of spending any weekends apart from her, if I could help it. I think I borrowed the family car just once to see her; by the next weekend, I had my Rally Sport. And it traveled the PA and NJ turnpikes nearly every weekend for three years, until we moved in together.

As the tow truck was pulling it away, I said to Kathy, “That’s the car that brought me to you.”

It also managed to let Kathy know I could take a joke. Within a few weeks of me buying it, Kathy and I attended our friends’ wedding out of town. After the reception, one of my friends noticed that the Rally Sport shared my initials, and pointed that out… as if it were some weird manifestation of ego that I had to have a car that shared my initials. And suddenly there were a barrage of comments about the car, all with the letters R.S. “It’s really spiffy” is the one I remember best, but the comments were relentless. Not insulting, but just merciless teasing. And I did my best to take it with good grace, and give as good as I got whenever I saw an opening. And I’d like to think Kathy noticed I was someone who wouldn’t blow a fuse at a little ribbing, and I hope that recommended me.

The Cavalier had a lot of miles on it, so I can relate. Its systems were failing, one by one. First the CD player went. Then the trunk began leaking badly enough that I had to remove the carpeting because it had molded. The back seat no longer had any padding under it (it had molded), and the cushion would occasionally detach from the bench. The air conditioning stopped working several summers ago. And sometime this summer, I was no longer able to direct which heating and cooling vents the air would come out of… which promised a fall and winter of fogged, undefrostable windshields. 

It was clearly time to move on.

But still. That was the car that brought me to my wife. Every weekend, for months and years on end, since before she was even my girlfriend, really. I owe it a debt.

There was a photo of us, a Polaroid, in the change well of the Cavalier. Four photos, shot in a boardwalk booth, of Kathy and I, smooching and grinning like crazy. We both have more hair than we do now, and it’s clear we’re over-the-moon in love.

You can bet that photo is in the center console of my new car. It’s a smooth ride, and the air conditioning works, but it has a lot to live up to.


Sunday, October 14, 2012

I Thrill When I Drill a Bicuspid

Of all the comics I bought this weekend at New York Comic Con...

and the even greater number of comics I looked at in the back issue bins....

...this is the one I simply could not put down. It called to me.

Why am I such a Super-Misfit?

(Cover by the great Nick Cardy, btw.)

Monday, October 01, 2012

Team Up

This is my childhood hero, The Flash -- Barry Allen -- when he was a boy.

And this is his mom saying something that my own mom has always said to me: "Luck is preparation meeting opportunity."

Good advice, from a great mom.

I have a feeling opportunity is at my doorstep. I hope I've prepared enough when it knocks.