I Sincerely Hope W's Xmas Sucks

In an exceptionally convenient move, the White House has announced that it will wait until after the holidays to announce any new approach to the Iraq War. The AP coverage can be found here among other sites:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16173078/

Please, Mr. President, tell that to the Marines. No, really, tell the Marines and every other serviceman and woman over there right now that you want to mull it around for a bit over the Christmas break. You see, you're the decider, so you tell them that the holidays are such a hectic time what with shopping and Chrismahannukwanzukka and Festivus parties and all that you need some time to make up your mind.

You see, these policy decisions are tough. They're hard to make. They're what you call "hard decisions," and the holidays are more of a get-together-with-friends-and-family time than a do-my-job-so-fewer-American-soldiers-lose-their-lives time. You've decided, decider, to take your sweet time, so take it. Shucks, you've got plenty of time; a whole lot can happen in two years. Besides, it's not like anything you decide today is going to get them home any quicker. That would require admitting that you may have made an error in prior decision-making situations; furthermore, it would require quick, decisive measures on your part, and
quite frankly, sir, you've more than proven that you're able to make one or the other but not both.

So Merry Christmas, Mr. President. I sincerely hope that the coal you receive in your stocking will keep your cold, grinchy heart warm enough to keep track of every American casualty you rack up between now and when you finally get off your draft-dodging duff to decide.

May God continue to bless America, and have mercy on your soul.

Dept. of Potentially Bad Parenting Choices

I took my daughter to Club Libby Lu, a store/salon for little "princesses." Check out the web site here: http://www.clublibbylu.com/ This place is kind of like Paris Island Boot Camp, and by Paris I mean Hilton. Lots of make-up, lots of pink, and lots of bling. Madonna's "material girl" phase has nothing on this place. Think Paris-the-Heiress for pre-teens.

Granted, I took her to this place because one of my students works there, and she told me that she would do Hadley's nails, convinced me that it's a lot of fun for little girls, etc. I'm not entirely sure that I should have taken a three-and-a-half-year-old. We--we? who am I kidding--I bought a little stuffed dog, dog collar, dog shirt, and dog purse to carry the dog in a la Parisite Hilton. Clearly, the salesgirl/salon technician saw me coming.

That having been said, she did sprinkle glitter dust in my daughter's hair, painted her nails, and generally treated her like a "big girl." And Hadley has already named her new dog Trevor--yeah, I don't know where that came from, either. Furthermore, Hadley did have a gay old time, so I'm thinking I got my twenty-five buck's worth.

But I still feel like I may have opened Pandora's make-up kit.

Newest Little Bosch

Yes, I know, I should have posted this a couple of days ago.

My son, Dashiell, was born last Thursday, November 30th at 5:35pm. He was 7 pounds and 14 ounces, and 19 3/4 inches long. There he is at the right with Hadley, his older sister.

No jokes, no sarcasm. We're all just fine. Happy birthday to me.