Which, that kinda tickles.*

Had a chance to talk briefly with tonight’s keynote speaker, Democratic Senator Zell Miller, whom I caught up with at the beverage table after one of his sound checks. 

protein wisdom: “As a lifelong Democrat, what made you decide to endorse George Bush for president?”

Zell Miller: “That’s a good question, because I have voted for every Democratic presidential candidate since 1952, 13 of them. I’ve never voted for a Republican. But I’m going to this time.  In this dangerous time, we need a strong commander in chief, and I think that George Bush is one of the strongest that you could possibly have. I have admired and respected the way that he has grabbed terrorism by the throat. And I think he’s the commander in chief that we need these next four years.”

protein wisdom: “The Democrats are noting that 12 years ago, you were the keynote speaker at Bill Clinton’s first convention here at Madison Square Garden.  Senator, Democrats say you were right then and you’re wrong now.”

Zell Miller:  “No, that was then and this is now. We’re at war. 9/11 changed everything, as far as I’m concerned. It changed the way that we have got to look at how we do things.  I am very, very disturbed at the lack of bipartisanship that I saw in Washington over the last four years that I’ve served in the Senate. And I think it’s very dangerous for this country in a time of war. We can’t afford it.”

protein wisdom:  “Right.  No argument here.  So. Georgia, eh?  I imagine Georgia can get pretty hot this time of year...”

Zell Miller:  “Yessir, Georgia can get quite hot in the summertime --”

protein wisdom:  “-- and it’s not like it’s a dry heat, either, right?  Quite humid, I imagine...”

Zell Miller:  “Oh, it’ll put some water in your socks, that’s for sure.  But it’s a beautiful state, with friendly, intelligent, fair-minded voters who strongly favor traditional family values and fiscal responsibility --”

protein wisdom:  “-- yeah, I’m sure they do.  Question:  what’s a pole cat?”

Zell Miller:  “A what’s this now --?”

protein wisdom:  “A pole cat.  C’mon, you’re a southerner, right?  You should know this.  It’s always driven me crazy --”

Zell Miller:  “-- Well, I can tell you that--”

protein wisdom:  “Or better yet, skip that.  Say something, y’know...homespun, instead.  Like an aphorism your granpappy taught you or a colorful metaphor—something like that --”

Zell Miller:  “-- not quite sure what a pole cat is… But seriously, America does need George W. Bush right now, like a farmer needs the rain, or corn needs its cob --”

protein wisdom:  “--ah, there it is!  That’s the stuff --!”

Zell Miller:  “-- Does that work for you--?”

protein wisdom:  “-- Beautiful. Perfect. Redneck poetry, Senator, thanks.  ...Say, you wouldn’t happen to play the banjo, would you...?”

me: “Tell me something, pants.  Can I still ‘shake it like a Polaroid picture’?”

Levi’s:

me: “Hello...?”

Levi’s:  “Dude, what in the fuck are you talking about...?”

A note to the makers of Blue Bunny Carb Freedom Mint Chip Frozen Dairy Dessert:  cautioning that “excessive consumption may have a laxative effect” is not the same as the more precise, “warning:  it’s quite possible you could shit out a lung after eating this stuff.  Maybe even several teeth, if you push too hard.”

No complaints about the taste, though.

Anybody else eagerly awaiting Michael Moore’s column praising these brave Chechen “Minutemen”...?

update:  Ted Rall emails, “I’m drawing a strip showing Pat Tillman’s ghost squicking a decapitated Maori bushman.  Am I edgy or what...?”

update 2: Logic and Sanity has much more (thanks, Dario and LGF).

Okay. Now I really read it for the articles.

(h/t Wizbang)

Those of you who think Republicans have no sense of humor should’ve seen Newt Gingrich last night.  Because I’m here to tell you, if anybody does a better impression of Jeff Foxworthy purchasing gefilte fish, I sure haven’t seen it.

“...So what you’re sayin’ is, that thar jelly surroundin’ the fish ball...that’s intentional?”

Christ, I’m still laughing. 

For those of you who missed the last couple weeks because in the course of rescuing a bunch a schoolchildren from a burning church in the Oklahoma boonies you were felled by a heavy wooden beam and subsequently hospitalized:  here, catch up.

Stay gold, Ponyboy.

New Yorker Hotel “Compassionate Conservatism” after party, dwarf tossing results (semi-final round):  Arnold Schwarzenegger, 26’7”; protein wisdom, 22’11”; Jenna Bush, 20’1”, Monica Crowley, 16’8”; Sean Hannity, 16’4”; Susan Estrich, 8’2”; Alan Colmes [disqualified for hugging the dwarf and trying to get him to refer to himself as “a little person"]; Barbara Bush [no show—reportedly doing upside down margaritas with a couple of delegates from New Mexico]

Anybody else see that dolphin in the navy blue pea coat slip a wad of rolled-up bills and a bag of ‘shrooms into Education Secretary Rod Paige’s jacket pocket?  Because I did. 

Note to Secret Service:  should the dolphin start going on about sea monkeys, take him down right away.  Trust me.

...Anybody feel like emailing ol’ Mark Follman and letting him know the joke’s on him...?  Or do you think it’ll be more fun letting him figure it out on his own...?

update:  Democratic strategist Ellis Henican emails, “Christ.  And here I was thinking we couldn’t look any more confused and humorless.”

update 2:  Follman responds—though he doesn’t fare much better this time, I’m afraid.

update 3: Captain Ed spends more time on this guy than I would, but I’m glad he did. 

Incidentally, protein wisdom seems to be the only blog not on the Captain’s Quarters blogroll.  Which I’ll try not to take that as a pointed criticism.

1. "[...] unlike John Kerry, who couldn’t lift one of Michael Moore’s man boobies."
2. "Am I the only one who thinks John Edwards looks like a woman?"
3. "Then Nancy Pelosi got drunk and tried to grab my enormous package."
4. "How about those Bush twins in their little party dresses, eh?  Does anybody else have a chubby?"
5. "And then there’s Cruz Bustamante, who I pounded into paper and used to wipe my ass."
6. "Because were Teresa my wife I would have given her a smack a long time ago.  But then, I’m not a Massachusetts pussy, either."
7. "I pick scabs with bigger balls than Terry Mcauliffe’s."
8. "[...] or as Adolph Hitler might say, ’mein kampf.’"
9. "I’ll be back." “Hasta la vista, baby."

It’s not official yet, but I think I just talked National Review’s Rich Lowry into an actual pissing contest with Air America’s Al Franken.  FOXNews’ Linda Vester has agreed to judge it. 

I’m off now to buy a case of Milwaukee’s Best and a couple of Super Big Gulps.  And some yardsticks.  Wish me luck.

Developing....

update:  Gonna need more Milwaukee’s Best, ‘t looks like.  Because who knew Vester could drink like that?  I sure as hell didn’t.

“John who?  Dude, how’d you get into my trailer?  Seriously, you can’t be in here.  I don’t even know you."*

****
Shannon Elizabeth update:  “Skeet Ulrich?  Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s seen my breasts...”

****
Because Allah asked...

I was scheduled to do a brief 5-minute spot on Laura Ingraham’s radio show early this morning, but I slept through it after polishing off several bottles of bourbon last night with a pair of Wyoming delegates who kept giving me grief about my surf shop cowboy hat. 

I feel bad about missing Laura’s show—I sent her over a huge box of Raisinettes in lieu of a personal apology—but c’mon:  how often do you get to spend time with a couple of drunk cowboys lassoing Times Square hookers with a rope made from shoelaces knotted to a half pack of cherry Twizzlers?

***
update:  Hmm.  Should’ve sent Laura a gyro sandwich, maybe...?

Observations from the convention floor:  Angie Harmon smells of honeysuckle and cloves—her glowing skin the color of sun-baked mahogany, her voice the sultry hum of Mezcal and cigarettes and late night conversations with friends on the deck of a rented beach house.  Truly dazzling.

Oh. And Jason Sehorn, John McCain, and Rudy Giuliani spoke tonight, too.

****
update:  Visiting from Salon?  Be sure to check out the rest of my GOP convention coverage (which begins here).  My response to Salon’s utterly confused scribe is here.

Did Happy Hour at some sports bar a block or so from the Garden—overpriced hot wings and pitchers of Bass Ale with FOXNews’ Martha MacCallum and a sound engineer from WBAP in Dallas, Rory Pogatch.

Sitting just down the bar from us was Democratic strategist Ellis Henican, who, as it happens, doesn’t find it at all amusing when you buy him a dozen Shirley Temples with extra cherries and have them sent over at two minutes intervals.  Instead, he takes one last sip from his club soda, tosses a ten spot on the bar, then flips you the bird on his way out the door.

From the BBC:  “French hostages plead for lives"

Two French journalists held hostage in Iraq have urged their government to lift a ban on Muslim headscarves in schools to save their lives.

The men also called on French people to protest against the law, set to come into force this week, in a new video shown on Arabic TV station al-Jazeera.

The latest video emerged as a deadline set by their captors for the rescinding of the law was apparently extended.

Hours earlier thousands held rallies across France to support the hostages.

Al-Jazeera reported that the kidnappers had added 24 hours to a deadline to kill the two men - Christian Chesnot of Radio France Internationale and Georges Malbrunot of Le Figaro newspaper.

The French government has refused to give in to their demands to lift the ban on religious clothing in schools, and Foreign Minister Michel Barnier has been conducting an urgent mission to the Middle East to gather support.

The BBC’s Angus Roxburgh in Paris reports that a large crowd of people gathered in the city’s Trocadero Square on Monday evening, to show their support for the pair.

He says French people have been appalled by their plight, and are baffled by the fact that the country’s citizens should have been targeted by Iraqi militants, given France’s vocal opposition to the US-led invasion of Iraq [my emphasis].

related:  Radical Jewish militants continue not kidnapping French journalists in response to the French ban on yarmulkas in schools. 

Big Apple:  “So. I hear you like to beat on defenseless little apples. With a shovel, no less.”

me: “Well, no, not really --”

Big Apple:  “-- Sure you do.  Don’t lie to me.  You like to take a shovel to McIntosh apples.”

me:  “That’s not entirely true --”

Big Apple:  “-- What, you don’t think I hear things?”

me:  “That was one apple, okay?  And he was especially disrespectful --”

Big Apple:  “-- Uh huh.  So, you feel like taking a swing at me, tough guy?  I’m an apple.  C’mon, show me what you got.  Take a swing.”

me:  “No, I have no beef with you, Big Apple --”

Big Apple:  “-- Because I got news for you, pal.  I kicked Sinatra’s arrogant ass all over Manhattan, and he was a man.  You I’d chew into pulp and leave for the freakin’ pigeons.”

(via Spot On)

**update**

me:  “What a twerp that guy is.”

Bo Derek:  “You’re telling me.  I eat guys like him for breakfast and still have room left over for a short stack and a half dozen sausage links.”

Passed Tucker Carlson in the hallway a few minutes back, who was flipping through a stack of papers and didn’t acknowledge me except to throw a dirty look my way when he noticed the red bow tie I have on.

“That’s right, Wonderboy,” I hollered after him.  “You don’t own the red bow tie.  And I look good.  So live with it.”

As you read this, Michael Moore is marching past his third eatery in as many city blocks without once stopping for a meal.  Instead, he unwraps another Slim Jim beef tube and devours it in three bites, all the while thinking if the goddmaned Republicans hadn’t brought their convention to New York, I’d be naked and thigh deep in a pool of chocolate pudding right now.  God, how I hate goddamned Republicans.

Me, I take another bite of the egg salad sandwich I’m sharing with Ed Koch and Roger Simon and watch protesters outside stream by like a river of colorful sewage.

for the anarchists

This cute girl, she thinks
I’m smart because I’m
wearing a paper mache
puppet head and protesting
Republicans converging
      on the Big Apple.

But the truth is, I have no
idea why I’m protesting. 
Which I guess doesn’t really
matter, so long as the cute
girl who thinks I’m smart
     shows me her funbags later.

5:47 PM.  Westbound on 35th and Broadway, a group of white guys with dreadlocks spin lopsided urine balloons at police.  “What are you guys protesting?” I ask one of them, a skinny kid in his early twenties whom I slide up alongside.
     "Fuck off, narc,” he says, not looking at me.
     I flash him a peace sign.  “No war for petroleum-based latex products filled with liquid human waste,” I say—then I sucker punch him in his kidneys several times until he folds up like a broken beach chair, the filthy little pissflinger.
     A vodka gibson, I’m thinking.  Or maybe a dirty martini.  That’s what I’m in the mood for.

6:22 PM: Dirty martinis it is. 

****
update:  more protest coverage here.

update 2: I’ve been called an asshole by something named Spheric Harlot.  Which, there’s another thing I can cross off of my life’s to-do list…

After visiting a friend on St. Marks Place in the East Village, I stopped for a beer at a nearby pub and was immediately approached by a cute hippie girl who handed me a flier printed on blood red paper demanding Bush get out of New York.  I told her I’m sorry, but that I love Bush—especially New York Bush—and that I was looking forward to seeing lots of Bush this week.  At which point she gave me a confused look, then grabbed back the flier, jotted down her phone number, and handed it back to me. 

Context is everything, I guess.

protein wisdom is still undergoing server migration, so some posts—and some of your comments / trackbacks—may appear, disappear, and then reappear whenever they see fit. 

Personally, jet lag has me too weak to fight this digital plague hand to hand.  But I am told through my technologically adept proxies that these problems will be solved shortly.  In the meantime, you might try viewing this site through a pair of those neat-o 3-D glasses advertised on the backs of comic books, the ones that allow you to see bras and panties right through women’s blouses.  Or you could just do 6 or 7 tequila shooters and view the site through a piece of red cellophane, which I’m told is roughly the same thing.

Not much to report yet.  My flight was rather ordinary, as was the coffee I had this morning—which tasted the same as Colorado coffee, though it cost me $1.50 more. Maybe because of the fancy paper cup with fold-out cardboard handles.  Or maybe because Mayor Bloomberg is an insane tax pimp.

Anyway, in the Big Apple’s defense, the poppy bagel and whitefish salad I had for breakfast was superb.  As was the kosher dill pickle I bought from the same deli.  But then, it’s hardly news that New York has it’s share of Jews, right?

So.  Off to a souvenir shop to pick up a pewter Statue of Liberty figurine, which I plan to drill a hole through and wear around my neck like a piece of super-nationalist bling bling. And in a pinch, I can hurry it into a sock and wield like a blackjack should anyone dare question my patriotism.  The whiny little bitches.

In preparation for my NYC sojourn to cover the GOP convention, I’ve made a few minor cosmetic changes to help protesters identify me as a bonafide rightwinger deserving of their earnest, progressive scorn.  Because I wouldn’t want the Starbucks crowd aiming their water balloons and free-range chicken eggs at any innocent bystanders…

Oh.  And I’ll be wearing a coat made from the elderly and dragging a cluster of minority children around by a very heavy chain manacled to one of my boots.  So really—the puppetheads won’t be able to miss me. 

Bring it on.

Yeah, right.  Like a woman who thinks a Quarter Pounder with cheese is a flawed diamond would ever eat an Egg McMuffin.

...Christ.  You people really disappoint me sometimes.

****
underpaid Guatalajaran kitchen help of update:  Teresa wails, “Don’t question my husband’s patriotism, unpatriots!”

(h/t Ace)