It’s Monday and Obama’s on vacation so at least we have that going for us. I’m not sure how many rounds of Golf he’s going to play but we can be sure that since it gets him out of that bazillion dollar mansion and away from his wife he’s going to play AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. He’ll squeeze in the “Bookstore” visit and the “Ice Cream” visit and the insufferable yearly “bike trip”. But let’s be honest – this is about his royal highness hanging out with his (male) friends “playing golf” as much as possible-NTTAWWT.
So moving-on to the first ever MONDAY MUSICAL MOTIVATION.
It was Mare’s suggestion (was she drinking?) – so blame her.
I’m going to start this slowly. Lessen the shock. THIS is one of my favorite running songs. It’s got a strong beat (you can’t dance to it) that builds in intensity for the PERFECT running pace. Toward the end – if you’re not flying down the road you just don’t have any soul. The heavy sound was created on this album was made by plugging the guitars into bass amps.
There. Now that we’re warmed up I can move on to something a bit peppier. Well at least the folks on the video are dancing around … we’ll go with that.
These cool dudes played around here recently but I was probably working a fake double.
Now – for a bit of cold reality.
Depressing song but the BEAT – man. I can lift to that.
This is the song I always use when I need to finish strong.
Here’s a little zumba motivation. I was working both days during the final weekend – and it was slow – so I put the games on all the teevees in the bar and got to watch a lot. The gals were fun to watch – then the guys started competing.
OMG
So I’ve got an 8.5 mile run today then I work tonight. And the laundry room? Have you SEEN THAT? OMG. Nothing trashes my house like me working all weekend. Ugh. Ok. Let’s hit it folks.
Since Chumpo took the day off, I feel it necessary to jump in with some art. Art, for the common man. Art for the person who’s never been to one of those hoity toity art galleries:
I’ve seen some frightening footage from the riots, but the shit’s really about to hit the fan –
So, as we watch our country slowly crash and burn, I present to you the response from the left. Apparently, we’re just being hypocrites in our reaction to a city being destroyed.
But when a mob of mostly white people take to the streets, vandalizing cars, storefronts and street signs in the process it usually means someone either won or lost a game.
As Mic’s Zak Cheney-Rice noted in January, these rioters are usually called “revelers,” “celebrants” and “fans.” They’re not even called “rioters” in many cases. They’re not derided as “criminals,” “thugs,” “pigs” or even “violent.” Those descriptors, as events in Baltimore Monday night reveals yet again, are only reserved for black people. They’re the ones who need to be quelled by militarized police forces. They’re the ones who need to be off the streets, immediately. They’re diminishing the validity of their cause. Yet somehow, reckless behavior over a sports team, not a systemic matter of life and death, is viewed as a costly nuisance.
Huh, I BELIEVE that no one has ever called the assholes that destroy property in celebration (or anger) over the win/loss of any sports team. I’m pretty sure that they ARE called rioters and condemned by the whole of society and drunken assholes. No reporters show up on the street trying interview them to “understand” the motivation for their actions. People are usually arrested. It’s an embarrassment for all involved.
Then the author goes on to compare the drunken looting and destruction in Baltimore (and other recent events) to the Boston Tea Party.
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you has screwed up my life.
I see your face when I am dreaming.
That’s why I always wake up screaming.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss.
But I only slept with you ’cause I was pissed.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl’s empty and so is your head.
I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don’t take that paper bag off your face.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes
Damn, I’m good at telling lies!
My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?
My feelings for you no words can tell.
Except for maybe ‘Go to hell.’
What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.
Checking Your Mom's Drawers for Hope&Change since March 2009 
