AddieStan

More beatin' 'round the... Your blogstress asks your forbearance in keeping her promise to deconstruct the whole of President Bush's remarks last week to the Unity Convention, a gathering of journalists of color at which the president dumped a motherlode of material for late-night comedians and mean-spirited cybertrices. There's just so much that your humble écrivaine finds herself a tad overwhelmed. And then there's that little problem of earning a living that keeps getting in the way. Unfortunately, a suitable patron has yet to be found for the bohemian, blog-centric lifestyle to which your gateau-de-cup aspires.

Those good ole boys were drinkin' Whiskey and rye... Thirty years after Richard Milhous Nixon resigned the presidency, your blogstress found herself moved to a profound and wistful melancholy when the deep, manly tones of the Nixonian swan song came wafting through her radio last night as she rolled paint onto her living room walls. It was a sound that transported her swiftly back to the day and place when she learned of the deal--the way the scent of a bar of Palmolive soap brings her back to her grandmother's pink-and-black tiled bathroom. As the voice of the Great Disgraced began his farewell address, your Webwench could feel under her nails the yarn of the cherry-red wall-to-wall carpet of the family living room in Clark, New Jersey, where she sat on the floor in front of a dated, tube-set high-fi, breathless and bewildered at this latest turn of the national screw. Dressed for a date, her long hair, ends curled on hot rollers, artfully splayed across her shoulders, ...