George McGovern

George McGovern made sense in the '70s and he's relevant today. That he lost the election is as inexplicable as Kerry losing the last election. (Oh, yeah, one common theme is the Republican's reprehensible slimy tactics. God, I want the Democrats to get a spine this time.)

I may have been parroting my parents' views back when I had a "McGovern" button pinned on my pink corduroy jumper for an elementary school picture, but as I grew older and understood my parent's politics (and eventually argued successfully with my dad and convinced him to change his mind on a state proposition - a true coming-of-age moment), I was proud of them for their humane, well-reasoned and almost dangerous (we lived in Bakersfield, where dad inspire vitriolic letters to the editor in the local paper) political views. (The previous is a ridiculously long sentence, but I haven't the time to make it prettier.)

I'm reading Stephen Colbert's new book. It makes me laugh out loud. It's ironic that he's so ridiculous when all he's really doing is aping O'Reilly. Not that staying in character is an easy feat. How can anyone watch O'Reilly? My brother has a friend who gets stoned and watches O'Reilly with the volume off, lauging hysterically the whole time.

When did "wrong" become common usage? (As in "That's just wrong," or "It's wrong but it's funny.") I keep hearing people use it, and came across it several times in the last issue of Entertainment Weekly. People say it about, say, edgy humor that some might offensive. I think it may have started as more of an apologety (e.g. "I know I shouldn't think this is funny because it seems racist/sexist/what-have-youist, but I have to confess it slays me."), and now the usage is more of a reflex.

Just curious. I'm a nerd like that.

I attended a work-related class, and a speaker repeatedy said "not so much" when he provided comparisons. (Here's an example: "Blogs can be great - I found one today that's really well written, and informative. My blog? Not so much."). Then NPR ran a story about the origin of the phrase, They tracked it back as far as they could, which was to "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer."

As I said, I'm nerdy enough to find this interesting. In fact, I stayed in my car to hear the end of the story, even though I was parked in the driveway by then. (Kind of like when I was in HS and my best friend and I would hear the start of one of our favorite songs on the radio right when we got to my house, so we'd drive around the block until it was over. Obviously gas was cheaper. (Who am I trying to kid? We'd have been dumb enough to do it anyway.))

I love reading obituaries, and have a big, fat book of interesting NY Times obits. I understand there's volume of th London Observer's best obits. I must look for it. I keep meaning to write mine, but I can't decide whether to go all romantic and gothic (with choirs of angels carrying me to heaven on their feathered wings) or create a fabulous past, perhaps in a Zelig-like way.