Dear Readers...
A health issue in the family will require much of my attention in the immediate future, so I won't be posting for a while. My sense of humor has also deserted me, and is currently on a backpacking tour of Hades.
I hope to be back one day, but in the meantime, thanks for reading.
The report that a whopping 25.6 million U.S. adults (11 percent) are now on antidepressants seems to indicate more Americans have overwhelmingly come to the same conclusion as Adam and Eve after meeting the devil: life can be a pisser.
It's not just the 11 percent of us taking Prozac, Lexapro, Cymbalta and Ohshitohdear that leads to this conclusion. Another 64 percent of the population is on booze and six percent regularly risk prison for illegal drugs.
While many citizens occupy more than one category, I estimate of the 230 million adults in America, only about 25 percent of us go nose-to-nose with reality every day and night without first popping a pill, pouring a drink or smoking something funny.
I bring this up not to bring you down, but to suggest something is inherently wrong with this picture. Booze and bad drugs have always been with us, but the doubling of Americans on antidepressants in just four years says one of the following:
(1) Our coping mechanisms have been poorly engineered -- blame God, (2) life really is an overwhelming bitch -- back to the devil, or (3) the pharmaceutical companies are laughing at us all the way to the bank.
Pick window number 3.
By spending billions on clever and unrelenting advertising, the legal drug lords have convinced millions of Americans to ask their doctors if the slightest spike on their anxiety meters is something they should have to bear.
"Don't worry, be happy," the family doctors reply. And, with no more knowledge of psychiatry than you or I, they add one more name to the rolls of the drug-dependent.
I usually write for laughs, but I just couldn't find the humor in this one.
While I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the following transcript, it was supposedly taken from a conversation this week between President Obama and Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates.
"This is Henry Louis Gates, a black man living in America."
"Relax, Henry, it's me, Barack. We're on for Thursday night -- a picnic table outside the Oval Office."
"Be there or be square."
"Right on. Now, what kind of beer do you want, Henry?"
"What's that Irish redneck Crowley drinking? Wait, let me guess: Bud Light."
"No, I'm drinking Bud Light, Henry. Sgt. Crowley ordered Blue Moon."
"I'll blue moon his mama!"
"Henry, please, just tell what you're drinking."
"A nice 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor. Isn't that what we black men living in America drink?"
"Why not consider a Jamaican Red Stripe, Henry, or a Beck's beer from Germany?"
"I'll moon a German's mama!"
"Red Stripe it is. And Henry, I really need you to dial it down a little when we meet with Sgt. Crowley."
"Oh, yessa, boss, the black man living in America will be ever so polite to the nice White poh-leese officer. We don't want no trouble with da man, now do we?"
Thursday night, Henry, I'll meet you outside."
"I'll meet your mama outside!"
I wanted to interview Sgt. James Crowley, the White police officer in Cambridge who gained national notoriety for arresting the world famous Black Harvard professor, Henry Louis Gates, for disorderly conduct.
"Sgt. Crowley can't talk right now," a police spokesman told me. "He's under the bus."
"He was thrown under the bus?" I asked.
"Yeah, the media threw him under first, but he started to crawl out after a couple days."
"Then what happened?"
"The Cambridge chief of police threw him under the bus," the spokesman said. "He told the county prosecutor to drop the charges against Professor Gates, and the prosecutor did."
"Did the Chief say Gates wasn't guilty?"
"No, he just wanted it to go away, so he threw Crowley under the bus."
"Is that why he's still under it?"
"Nope. He was wiggling out one more time, but then President Obama was asked about the case during his news conference."
"What did the President say?"
"He admitted he didn't have all the facts, but he said Professor Gates was his friend and the Cambridge police acted stupidly."
"So the President also threw Crowley under the bus?"
"Big time. And when the President throws you under the bus, you might as well make it your home."
Those Americans who are burdened neither by large incomes or a sense of justice find no fault in the President's plan to force wealthier citizens (household incomes over $350,000) to pay the lion's share of universal health care.
As one proponent of selective taxation put it, "I don't care who pays as long as it ain't me. Gawd bless America, bygawd!"
If punishing success fails to raise the necessary funds, however, Obama's secondary plan to finance health care may face more opposition.
"Barack's fallback option is to significantly raise taxes on fancy-eyed people," a Democrat told me.
"What does that mean, fancy-eyed people?" I asked.
"Americans with blue eyes," he said. "Do you realize only one in six of our citizens has blue eyes?"
"I did not," I admitted.
"Yes, and the fancy-eyed people are almost exclusively of English, Irish and northern European ancestry."
"You mean, fancy-eyed people don't include minorities -- Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, Indians?"
"Not to mention Democrats," the Democrat said. "You hardly ever see a blue-eyed Democrat."
"Gee," I said, "it doesn't seem fair to arbitrarily force one in six people to pay for the health care of everybody just because they have blue eyes."
"Of course it's fair," the Democrat said. "Anyone with brown eyes knows that rich people and fancy-eyed people need to take care of everybody else. I mean, who the hell do they think they are?"
"Americans?" I asked.
Even to those of us without rich latina experience, Oklahoma Sen. Tom Coburn's question to Sonia Sotomayor seemed perfectly understandable: "Rather than legal thought, give me your opinion of whether or not in this country, I personally, as an individual citizen, have a right to self defense."
"That is sort of an abstract question with no particular meaning to me..." Sotomayor said.
If I had been Sen. Coburn, and realized that Sotomayor could not wrap her mind around the concept of self defense, I would have resorted to questioning even a child could understand:
"Judge, pretend for a moment you are Bugs Bunny, sitting happily one day in your rabbit hole, eating a carrot and watching The Rabbit Channel on TV."
"I'm in my own home, minding my own business, yes?"
"Yes, Judge. And suddenly, here comes that maniac with a double-barrel shotgun -- the infamous Elmer Fudd."
"Along comes Elmer..."
"Yes, and Elmer is positively nuts from doing meth, cocaine and Jim Beam for 24 hours straight. He digs away the dirt covering your home, points his shotgun right at your heart and yells, I'm going to kill you, you wascally wabbit!"
"I'm just eating a carrot and watching The Rabbit Channel, minding my own business?"
"Yes, and right next to you on a table is your .38 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver, which you have a right to own. In your opinion, Judge, can you pick up that revolver and shoot Elmer Fudd before he shoots you?"
"Well, the fact that he calls the rabbit wascally implies a past history between the two, which could suggest mitigating circumstances and possible preemptive..."
"Damnit, Sonia, do you have the right to shoot Elmer or not?"
"Next question, please."
Liberal U.S. educators are reporting multiple intellectual orgasms since President Obama told CNN in Africa that the history of slavery was a terrible part of our history and should be taught in American schools.
If I were to interview one of these educators between spasms, I suspect it would go something like this:
Educator: Omigod, omigod, omigod...that was so good! Now, what was your question again?"
"I said, if you make the history of slavery a regular part of the U.S. curriculum, shouldn't it be balanced with a class that puts things in perspective for black students?"
"Like what?"
"I'm thinking of a course of study entitled, Slavery Really Sucked for My Ancestors, but It Sure Was a Godsend for Me."
"That's preposterous."
"Not at all. If I'm a black living in sub-Saharan Africa today, I've got an average life expectancy of 46 years -- a full 30 years less than blacks in America. Half the African population makes less than a dollar a day. Fifty percent of the kids never enroll in grade school. Aids, war, genocide, malnutrition, illiteracy, atrocious health care, deranged dictators...Africa is the cesspool of continents."
"So the slaves were the lucky ones?"
"Like I said, slavery sucked. But if I'm a black living in America today because my ancestors came over as slaves, it sure was a godsend for me."
"That's politically incorrect on so many levels."
"But true."
"I'm a liberal educator. Truth has nothing to do with being politically correct."
Prior to departing Russia on Tuesday for the G-8 meeting in Italy, President Obama expressed frustration and regret that his first visit to Moscow was eclipsed by the Michael Jackson memorial service in Los Angeles.
"This week was supposed to be all about me," Obama told reporters. "Instead, the news is nothing but Michael, Michael, Michael." In a rare public expletive, the President then shook his head and muttered, "Sheee-it!"
A mortified Michelle Obama attempted to lead her husband away from shocked reporters, but Mr. Obama was having none of it.
"I mean, really, what had Jackson done beyond the musical world? The guy couldn't even play basketball. I would've dunked on him like he was a little girl. Sheee-it!"
"Barack," the First Lady pleaded, "you're scaring the children."
"No, they need to hear this!" the President snapped. "I could have spent my early years just like him -- singing with the brothers on street corners, dancing the alligator for nickels and dimes from the rich folk passing by. But no! I set my sights on Harvard Law School and became President of the United States."
"Everyone knows you can sing and dance," Michelle said. "And yes, you could dunk on Michael."
"With either hand, Michelle. With either hand."
White House press secretary Robert Gibbs said Mr. Obama's remarks must be read in context to be correctly understood.
"All the President was suggesting," Gibbs said, "was that Michael Jackson was a mediocre basketball player. There's no shame in that."
Defense Secretary Robert Gates, who is conducting a full-scale review of government policy on homosexuals in the military, says he is finalizing plans to form an all-gay division in the U.S. Army.
"Every soldier in the outfit, from two-star general to the lowliest private, will be gay or lesbian and damn proud of it," Gates said. "Don't ask, don't tell, just isn't working. The policy of the new division will be, 'If you're here, you're queer.' "
A Pentagon spokesman said planners are currently looking for a suitable nickname for the all-homosexual force.
"The Rainbow Division would have been perfect, but it's already taken," he said. "The finalists are The Fighting Flames, The Gay Caballeros and -- the leading contender -- The Rump Rangers."
Gates admits that an all-gay force has its critics. "Some are suggesting that sexual activity in the ranks will run rampant, perhaps in detriment to the military mission. But I have faith that gays in the Army -- just like their straight counterparts -- will be soldiers first and horny sonsabitches second."
An all-gay division, the Secretary said, will also eliminate the main argument against allowing admitted homosexuals to serve in frontline units.
"The contention is that a heterosexual G.I. would be uneasy sharing a foxhole with someone who might want his bod," Gates said. "But if you're a proud member of The Rump Ranger Division, there's no sexual tension whatsoever. You and your buddy are right on the same page, and you're damn glad of it."
If the Rump Ranger experiment proves successful, the U.S. Navy -- which Marine Corps sources claim is predominantly homosexual -- will be the next service to field an all-gay force.
"My understanding," said Marine Corps Sgt. Buck Jones, "is that the entire Seventh Fleet will be designated gays only. And if that works out, the Sixth Fleet will be right behind them."
"It's tough being a child molester," Lester told me in an exclusive jailhouse interview, "but Michael Jackson gave us hope."
"How's that?" I asked.
"Have you seen the coverage, man? It's all about the music, baby...nobody cares what he did in the bedroom with little boys."
"He did pay out millions to alleged victims," I said, "but that was just to 'buy him some peace.' "
"No doubt," Lester said. "There ain't no peace in prison for a child molester."
"I can't believe a musical genius would abuse little boys," I said. "I mean, have you seen the moon walk?"
"Exactly my point!" Lester the Molester said. "Us poor run-of-the-mill, no-talent molesters are totally hated by society. Everywhere we go parents tell their kids, 'Look out for Lester the Molester -- Stay away from Lester the Molester.' Gosh, why should we be defined by one little aspect of our personalities?"
"Probably because sexually abusing kids is irredeemably detestable," I offered.
"I repeat, have you seen the coverage? We got big-time newscasters and celebrities practically weeping over Michael. I tell ya, he's given us real hope for the first time."
"But there's no cure for pedophilia, Lester. Once a child molester, always a child molester."
"Man, you just don't get it. We don't need no stinking cure."
"You don't?"
"Hell, no! All we need are singing and dancing lessons."