GranolaBox

So the first thing I hear on NPR news this morning is about Governor Sanford. After so famously going all John C. Calhoun on President Obama by refusing stimulus money, it turns out the Governor was visiting his Argentinian mistress. I’d like to really jump all over Sanford about this, but there’s something bizarrely romantic about it.

There he is sitting at home all dejected about losing his one man civil war, he’s lonely and vulnerable… he wants his mistress. Screw the ship of South Carolina statehood and fly off to Argentina for a booty call. He’s either madly in love, or the type of horny most men can identify with.

There’s also a degree of come-uppance too. Anything a Republican governor can do to disgrace himself helps even the governor scandal scale, at least in the womanizing department. I’m still bitter about Spitzer and Sanford has done little to balance the scandal scale. Flying to Argentina to be with your mistress is way more romantic than transporting a high paid hooker across state lines to have exorbitantly expensive sex with her.

On a sadder, and slightly more serious note, farewell to Farrah Fawcett. I had the red swimsuit poster in my bedroom from age 13-17. Farrah helped me through puberty. Thank you for that.

There were Farrah haters out there, as I found out in 8th grade art class. Our assignment was to recreate a drawing on a bigger scale using some kind of grid technique, and I chose the Farrah red swimsuit pic. Art class after art class I worked reverently while a host of detractors said she “wasn’t that pretty.” Well, I didn’t really do her justice either. She ended up looking more like George Foreman but Miss Kelly sensed my passion and gave me an A anyway.

The last movie I saw her in was Robert Altman’s Dr. T and the Women. She was the only good thing about the movie. She also played Margaret Bourke-White in a movie, which is cool because I did my master’s thesis on her. Still haven’t seen the movie though.

And mad karmic points to Farrah for fighting cancer so hard.

And then, completely out of left field – Michael Jackson. I’ve always appreciated Michael Jackson as a freaky artist, but never enough to have bought any of his music. Back in the day, I bought Saturday Night Fever just because I understood it’s historical importance, and could listen to a little bit of it. I could never bring myself to do that with Thriller.

And then he just got so weird. I liked the Howard Hughes angle of Jackson’s weirdness – the “I’m rich I can do whatever weird thing I want” vibe. But then he started doing all the weird stuff with kids, and changing color and all that. That’s when he lost me.

I’ve already seen a lot of sick Michael Jackson jokes resurrected on Facebook, as well as some new ones almost celebrating his death. Goodbye, but certainly not good riddance.

Filed under: General Observations, Politics, Yesterdaze on June 25th, 2009