No Lack of Media Coverage

It continues to boggle my mind that the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee keeps Jessica McBride on its payroll. One would think the university would want a professional journalist to teach its classes rather than a political hack, one who is especially adept at tooting her own horn and that of her husband, Waukesha County DA Paul Bucher. Witness her recent screed in the Waukesha Freeman. Her piece is titled “Where’s the beef?” And she begins thusly:

Quick pop quiz: What did you think about the big debate in the Waukesha County district attorney’s race the other day?

You know, over that important issue? Oh, that’s right, I forgot. There wasn’t a big debate. And no one’s writing about the issues.

Quick pop quiz: Do you even know who’s running for Waukesha County district attorney?

Answer: No, it’s not my husband.

At this point I began to chuckle, and my chuckling wasn't because the last paragraph contained at least two sentence fragments. Two short paragraphs later we are graced with this gem:

There’s a pretty crucial changing of the guard under way in law enforcement right now and not only in Waukesha County, but you wouldn’t know it from the media coverage. Between them, my husband, Waukesha County District Attorney Paul Bucher ….

And then, in the paragraph, Jessica strikes again with another overdose of unprofessionalism:

Both will be hanging up their hats in November. My husband is running for state attorney general ….

In a piece ostensibly about the lack of media coverage for campaigns in Wisconsin, Jessica manages to wiggle herself and/or her husband's name into nearly every race. Sorry, no lack of media coverage here. McBride manages to plug herself and her hubby enough times in one column for an entire week’s worth of column inches.

From the lack of an identifiable media source, I’m assuming that she is speculating about an alleged lack of coverage from the Journal Sentinel (certainly not the Waukesha Freeman or WTMJ, the paper and radio station she shills for). I did a quick search at JS Online and found that since July 26, there have been at least ten instances where Bucher’s name (her husband, in case anyone was unclear) was mentioned. Additionally, there have been ten instances in which Peg Lautenschlager (the current attorney general) was mentioned and – how unfair is this – only six times that J.P Van Hollen (Bucher’s primary opponent and the husband of Jessica McBride) was mentioned. The dastardly media is overlooking his campaign.

Well, I have heard through the grapevine that Jessica is now going to start writing sports stories … straight reporting … because, you know, there is really not enough media coverage of herself and her husband. Here is an example:

Chris Carpenter failed again, not because of my husband, Paul Bucher who is running for attorney general for the state of Wisconsin, but because of a lack of media coverage and because he didn’t pitch very well. All this led to the St. Louis Cardinals losing to the Milwaukee Brewers, the team from the same state as my husband, 4-3, Friday night.

The 2005 NL Cy Young (who is this Cy Young and why is he getting media coverage?) winner left Friday night's game with an injury to the thumb on his pitching hand that put a scare into a team already on the skids. My husband Paul, on the other hand is healthy. Oh right, I forgot, Carpenter’s right thumb was swollen, although X-rays indicated no break.

"He took that ball right off the top of his thumb and he's got quite a bit of swelling," manager Tony La Russa said. La Russa sounds kind of, you know, Mexican, and my husband has a program for illegal aliens.

Oh, by the way, Prince Fielder, a favorite of Paul, my husband, because we like African-Americans in the Town of Merton, went 3-for-4 with a two-run home run and Tony Graffanino had three hits and an RBI to help the Brewers beat Carpenter, who was on the mound the night the Cardinals stopped their earlier eight-game skid.

The Cardinals have been outscored 54-29 during the slump, and their division lead was shaved to 2½ games over Cincinnati. In the first seven losses, the Cardinals lost only one game off their lead, something Paul, my husband has no knowledge because, you know, like, he leads in the race for attorney general in Wisconsin despite the lack of media coverage.

Saturday Note

What I will not tolerate here is vile and vulgar name-calling. A fellow blogger from the right side of the cheddarsphere left a message earlier today. To his credit, he removed it at 5:53 am. What he doesn't realize is I have my site set up to read all comments as e-mails additionally.

No reason to display who this fellow was but, these types of comments will be removed and the blogger banned. You can rip into me, or my beliefs, all you want as long as you keep a civil tongue.

Last thing: From all accounts this guy is not a bad person. He took offense to a post I made earlier, it wasn't even directed at him. I tried to mollify the effect with a fun story in which he was involved, apparently he couldn't figure out the joke. Others did.

Oh well.

Slow Friday ... No Clint

Another fine day in Brookfield. Went golfing today ... the first time all summer. I have been healing ligaments in both elbows (golfer's elbow the doctor said) for 10 months now. Went out yesterday to the driving range and today for nine holes at Currie. Didn't do too poorly ... a little erratic but birdied number 9 to finish with a first time out 46.

On another note ... saw that the prices for nine and 18 haven't changed much. Mentioned that to the fellow working behind the desk. His response was something we both agreed on ... smart move by [Scott] Walker to keep prices the same. Most golfers are Republican, so it's said (watch out, I have to duck now).

The wife came home early today. She wasn't feeling well. I did the best I could and am now going to put her to bed.

Not feeling so anxious to comment about stuff these days. One gets tired of fending off the idiots.

I have new respect, however, for dad29. Nine kids! Whew. Enough to make anyone crabby and juuust a little authoritative. He wants to meet my Dad and together attempt to reprogram me, but I have to pay the bar tab, he says. I like tequila and Dad likes manhattans.

My old man and I haven't seen eye to eye for quite a few years. I see no reason to change and don't think dad29's efforts will have any effect. But he's thoughtful to try.

Just Rambling ...

A friend suggested the name, Clint, for our baby if it's a boy. No! A man's got to know his limitations. Some don't have a clue and destroy their own arguments while trying to make one. It's so easy to refute neocons. Consequently, nope to Clint.

Kids back on Sunday. Will take them to the zoo or to State Fair. Ian's birthday on the 12th. He turns eleven. He's growing up way too fast.

Just Some Wednesday Thoughts

Now that I've finished painting myself Morning Shade Blue, I'm going to continue the attempt to put some of that paint on the bathroom walls. I appreciate people who do this professionally a lot more than I did yesterday.

My 1994 Ford Tempo (I just can't give it up ... runs like a charm and is paid for) is beginning to feel its age. I was informed by the mechanic at BP on Lilly and Capital that it was likely that the shoulder seatbelt gizmo had probably slipped a gear. He said it would cost $200-300 to have it repaired.

Now, everytime I open or close the door, this awful, loud, gurgling sound crows from the side. Of course, the seat belt doesn't budge.

The sound eventually dies off so I'm not stuck driving down the road. People might think I was listening to a new form of music, or Gregorian Chants (sorry dad29 ... just a joke). Actually, I like Gregorian Chants. My father was in the seminary for five years and brought that love of his along with a severely conservative view of life to our family. He also told the best dinnertime jokes.

That causes me to recall sitting at the dinner table one evening when Dad suddenly asked everyone to be quiet, and then asked if someone could explain why there were apple peelings stuck to the wall at its juncture with the ceiling. No one had a clue.

Well ... I did. It was a result of the one and only party that I ever held when the parents were gone. My friend Craig thought it would be funny to toss the pot of cold coffee my way, so I started pelting him with apples. Soon everyone joined in.

That was 30 years ago approximately. Damn.

Baby is still cooking well in the mommy tummy. Heard some news that due to Kelly's advanced age (for having children) a recent blood test said that the chance for a Down Syndrome child was slightly higher. We had already made the decision that regardless of what genetic tests might reveal, we would continue the pregnancy ... unless, of course, harm would come to Kelly.

Still, for the child's sake, we continue to hope for the best. We will love the child regardless.

Oh, I really enjoy reading other blogs and finding new ways to say things. Rick Esenberg, at Shark and Shepherd, has come up with one ... Gumpian ... referring to someone imitating Forrest Gump's ability to be where the action is. Good one!

The Dark and Stormy Night Happened Thursday

I couldn't sleep very well last night because of a dream I was having. My wife woke me up because of my tossing and turning and asked what the matter was. I told her my dream.

I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard strange noises. Not the same kind of strange noises our goofy dogs make, but different ... faint screaming noises.

I looked over to you. You apparently couldn't hear a thing over your snoring ... sorry. Anyway, you were sound asleep. I quietly got out of bed, opened and closed the door softly and walked into the living room. Max and Molly were nowhere to be seen.

I went into the bathroom, where Max usually sleeps (by the ac duct). He wasn't there either. I softly called to them and heard both of them shuffle into the living room from the kitchen. Both were whimpering softly, which if you know our dogs, is quite a feat. Neither is normally able to speak at anything less than the decibel level of a jet taking off from Mitchell Field.

I patted their heads and walked to the kitchen. I saw that there was a light coming up from the basement. Hmmm, I thought. I know I turned the light off earlier. I listened at the top of the stairs, and heard a chorus of squeaks. It sounded like Ian's gerbils.

You know how two of the five gerbils will get into a little tussle and some complaints will be heard. But the noise was nothing like that. I walked downstairs, turned the corner and peered into the gerbil cages.

The gerbils were thrashing about, not fighting, on their woodchip floor. I took off the cover and reached in to grab one to see what the matter was and it bit me. I looked closer and I saw the reason why ....

Each gerbil had a black “W” branded on its back.

“Oh my god, " I said to myself. "What happened here?”

I looked around and saw nobody, but I noticed that a light was peeking under the door to the laundry room. Leaving the wounded gerbils for a moment, I reached over and grabbed my 4-wood from the golf bag sitting behind the bar, walked to the door and slowly opened it.

I heard some noise ... some grunting. I peeked around the door and over on the other side of the room I saw four shadows thrown up against the wall.

"Who are you?" I asked.

The four figures turned around. They were hideous. They had sloping foreheads, a prominent ridge above their eyebrows and they were very hairy. They looked like what I would suppose neandertals would look like. The scariest thing was each had a "W" seared into their foreheads.

I took a step toward them. I don't know why. I'm really not that brave, especially with just a 4-wood ... now if I had grabbed my 3-iron ....

Anyway, they turned and somehow found a way up the wall and out what I had thought were locked basement windows. In fact, when I ran to the windows, I found they were locked.

I was baffled by their escape, why they were in my basement and why my son's gerbils were branded. I was also baffled by the bags of George W. Bush Quick-Grow Grass Seeds ... Just What Every Liberal Home Owner Needs.

"Where the hell did these come from?" I looked closer at the bags ... three were empty ... and read more of the print: Just plant the day before a heat wave and the grass will grow like magic. Watch in amusement as the liberal has to cut the grass in 95 degree heat.

"Ok. This is very strange."

I walked back upstairs and went back into the bedroom. At this point, you woke me up.

"How did the seeds get there," Kelly asked.

“I don't know. It's funny, though. Just the other day … I’m probably just getting paranoid, I thought I saw one of the local conservative bloggers, his name is Clint, drive by in a truck with a big W painted on its side.”

“Did he have a chubby face with a beard?”

“Yeah.”

As my wife gets out of bed and walks to the windows to open them, she says, “I saw him too. He drove by the meat market across the street a few times. Some guy in a white coat was out there too. He looked like a scientist."

"I can't imagine why a scientist and a conservative would be seen together ... a meat market? That’s weird. There's no meat market across the street."

“Uh. There is now. And, by the way, I think you need to cut the grass again.”

Give it a Rest

This has been an interesting couple of days. I wrote a post about this blockhead driver who kicked up some stones and dust around Muslim friends of mine, and speculated about his conservatism because he had a “W” sticker. I called him vulgar. I equated him with comments made by Jessica McBride. And suddenly, my cup runneth over in the form of comments from the right side of the blogosphere.

These comments range from the direct response of one a bit brighter than the others (dad29), to one who comments before reading the entire post and consequently is somewhat disingenuous in his response (Clint), then to Michael J. Cheaney who asks whether he can be equated with the aforementioned Jessica McBride (I guess so), and finally the inimitable Chris … nuff said there.

So, I guess my speculation hit a nerve.

It’s never nice to have your inner workings revealed. My personal feeling is each and every one of the responders should probably look deep inside and see whether their protestations may not be masking some deeper illness.

I looked deep down myself and decided that I could really care less. You see, after years of taking it on the chin and listening to these clowns hee haw up and down the street about liberals, I don’t feel like apologizing. Not a one of my posts in which I exaggerate (yes, I admit it, I am exaggerating) the vileness of conservatives do I ever make any violent threats of any kind. But this type of “humor” is apparently just all right (emphasis on right).

Anyway, I have dinner to make and a lovely wife to feed and so, to my responders, you are boring. Cry your crocodile tears, take two aspirin and get some sleep. I’ll be back tomorrow with some more for you.