If They Don't Want to be Americans, Send 'Em Packing!

Little Green Footballs has the latest updates on the idiotic (and now, apparently, DOA) ukase from the Michigan DOE regarding the use of the words America and American.

In other news, Michigan DOE "social studies consultant" Karen Todorov has directed that only Kleenex brand facial tissues be called Kleenex. All other brand should be called by their proper brand names, or simply facial tissue.

Additionally, she has sent word to WW Norton & Company, publishers of The Ugly American by William J. Lederer and Eugene Burdick, (required reading in all grades and all classes in Michigan schools) that the book must be renamed The Ugly People of the United States or it will be removed from Michigan classrooms.

That Bicycle Chick was Right About Another Thing

I was overly harsh about the residents of New Orleans.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I still think we should nuke the place and consider ourselves ahead of the game. Let's not forget, after all, the grievous injuries I've suffered there. Those alone oughta be worth a Minuteman.

But I made the mistake of believing the news reports on the MSM about what was going on in New Orleans after Katrina. Unfortunately, the MSM got the stuff completely, utterly, incompetently, criminally, murderously wrong, as Jonah Goldberg spells out here.

Funny. Those pompous bastards sit in judgment of everything everyone who makes an honest living does, constantly criticizing actual productive members of society. Yet they obviously can't be trusted to do their own damn jobs with even the most minimal competence. So why the hell do we listen to a word they say or write? (Well, I don't anymore -- why the hell do the rest of you?)

Promised Bike Stuff

Yesterday I experienced agony like a dog in a couple ways: I was suffering the final effects of some dread allergy crap that felt like flu, and just to shake things up, I rode the breathtaking Eddy Merckx over the ridiculously steep hills south of my hometown that are like the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact -- positively not good for a Polish man like me. (They're not good for any man, really, but I had to work in my learned reference to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.)

Today I rushed home and hooked up the exquisite Burley D'Lite and towed my fat-ass little fifteen-month-old son behind my gorgeous K2 mountain bike for ten miles. Did I ever mention how much I despise people who spend $500 for a bike trailer and only go around the neighborhood? I towed that little bugger until he fell asleep from exhaustion; I imagine it's awfully hard work sitting in screened, plush comfort with toys while I slave away pulling his girth about.

And did I ever mention that that chick from that cycling website was right -- the way I afford the multi-thousand clam bicycles I ride (and the trailer my son rides, the cost of which could feed Burkina Faso for a week) is that I have a trust fund that could feed Burkina Faso for a millennium?

Wow, Someone Once Read What I Wrote (and Wasn't Too Happy!)

Check it out here. I just posted a comment, which I assume nobody will read since the post is ancient. But it's a damn good comment.