Today's rants

1) There is an absolutely splendid road in the White Mountains that runs East-West through drop-dead gorgeous scenery. It's called the Kancamagus Highway, named after a leader of the Penacook nation. Note that it is not spelled Kancamangus: so wtf do white people of all sorts and conditions pronounce it as if it were? Note also how I fly to the defence of anyone whose name is mispronounced by idiots.

2) Mr Spike and the entire household paid the wages of his sins today. Because he has so many black marks on his permanent vet record that one can hardly read his name, we must now assume ahead of time that he will be knocked out for his annual physical, and fast him. The vets put their most cat-friendly practitioner on the case. All the same, this cat whose brains are in his stomach had been NPO for 15 hours by the time he saw her. St Francis of Assisi couldn't have coaxed good behaviour out of our boy under those conditions. He behaved badly and got knocked out.

All this meant that Ms. Annie had to fast also. She was more philosophical about it and we got her some food as soon as Spike was in the car. But having fasted meant that she failed to deliver a stool sample. Such is life.

His health is OK but could be better. No heart murmur this year, although there was some sign of enlarged heart wall muscle: no surprise in a cat who now tips the scale at 20 lb though eating his own food, Annie's food, and anything hooman that he fancies and can get at. And getting food is his chief exercise.

No pills, thank the goddess of suffering cat people. However, he now has to go on prescription diet cat food. So now we have to balance the fact that he needs to drop 1-2 lb with the fact that Annie can't spare another ounce of body weight, and if it's available, he'll eat it.

Our boy is on notice that when Ms A checks out, the next quadruped in this house is going to be a dog.

3) Oh how could I forget Ms. O'Donnell? I rather wish I could. Here is a politician who makes Dan Quayle look articulate. The China faux pas will probably play well in the bible belt, so what a pity she isn't running there. Just now, I won't start on the difference between China's traditional priorities and the insecure projections of some Americans: just laying it out there that such projections exist. The creepy part is that this year in particular, people who ought to be committed could possibly get elected.

Food fight!!

In case you've been preoccupied with something more substantial, say, work, we present to you the latest legislative deliberations of the Ukrainian parliament.

This has happened there before, as any half-decent Googling effort will show you. And it has happened elsewhere including, as I recall, Italy and Taiwan. It hasn't happened in the US of A since 1856.

Maybe that's our problem. Those who follow that link will note that the food fight and fisticuffs ended with the parliament actually passing legislation. How often does that happen in Congress these days, at least relative to the number of pressing bills before the two houses? Possibly we should encourage similar behaviour in our legislators? For instance, today a Republican Senator called a hold on banking reform legislation. Considering the mood of the country, that gesture has to rank high in the annals of political suicide. One assumes the Republican Senators up for re-election hope that the banks can buy enough voters to overcome this moment of lunacy. They forget that a century ago, when Senators were last so obviously owned by banks and industry, they weren't directly elected: It was much cheaper to buy Senators then.

But suppose some diligent Democrat had flung a rotten egg or custard pie at his or her distinguished colleague? Suppose the Republican had riposted with a cold cup of coffee? It's easy to imagine the possibilities here, and we should be grateful that the Ukrainian parliament has shown us the way to vent all this spleen and still pass laws.

Note: I have read a modest amount of the history of Ukraine, and I suggest that anyone who doesn't understand the rancour do the same. We have a mere 220 years of political pissing contests behind us. Ukraine has a long and sorrowful history as the pull toy of more powerful neighbours, six or seven hundred years at least. Those who feel strongly about many of the issues the Ukrainian parliament must debate have every reason to do so.

All the same, I suggest sending a dozen eggs to your Senators, Congresspeople, and state legislators. Send them parcel post so they'll be nice and ripe on arrival. Then let the games begin.

Not that there's anything *wrong* with that

Scott Brown seems to have let the god thing go to his head this week. First we hear that he sorta kinda forgot his election night convo with Ms. Palin. Forgetting his talk with the goddess is one thing: admitting it is another. That's the sort of faux pas that would go into any politician's little book of retribution, even someone more forgiving than the queen of the snows.

That got buried in tactful coverage of Brown's decision that he did not want to wait until February 11 to be sworn in, but wished to be sworn in today. Those of us who have raised children easily recognise the the refrain of "I wanna go NOW."Even the most friendly of media could find no other verb for his action than "demand." Evidently he's getting his wish from the permissive parents of the Senate.

Perhaps. The Senate is an august body with a deep respect for tradition, protocol and above all, seniority. The spectacle of its most junior member, Greek god though he may be, giving orders to the rest of the body is very likely going into 99 other little books of retribution. Mr. Brown will shortly discover that he has other things to do than vote. His committee assignments will be the most public sign of retribution. Less obvious will be his office assignment. There are hardly worse offices in the world than those typically assigned to junior Senators. Obama, even though he had behaved himself reasonably well, had a concrete square in the basement. If Brown gets something down the hall next to the furnaces, that may be a hint that he has overreached.

It may be that Brown is confused about offices and eras. In Tudor England there was a much-sought-after office called Groom of the Stool. The job of the Groom was to wipe the royal arse after the royal bowel movement. Oddly enough, the job was prized, chiefly because of the intimacy one had with the King.

Memo to Brown: arse-wiping has come down in the world since the 16th century. You would be wise to look into every dimension of your new job before you open your mouth again.