You know, when you've been in a job nearly eight years, you know your way around. You know everyone in your department and the departments with which you work. You know your way around the network. You know how things are done, what the procedures are. You're the person people go to for information because You. Know. Stuff.
Then you get laid off and start someplace else. And suddenly you are a moron. After taking ten required online training courses, a full day of corporate indoctrination, a three-hour online class about compliance, and reading innumerable SOPs, I still often haven't got a frickin' clue about how things are supposed to be done. I am blessed with a ferociously smart, knowledgeable, and miracle of miracles, helpful, officemate who has already made my life easier and helped navigate me around the deadly Freakout Shoals.
But at the end of the day, I am TIRED. I would love to write about how Camp Grover Norquist is not only throwing Sarah Palin under the bus but backing over her a few times, and how
Joe Lieberman may be about to learn that you cannot campaign for the other party's guy and expect your own party to welcome you back with open arms. I want to write about
voting machine problems in Minnesota where Al Franken trails Norm "Teeth" Coleman by only 337 votes, and how
turnout in Alaska seems unusually low for an election
which saw that state's governor on a national ticket.
I want to write about how
Camp Grandpa knew they were dealing with an idiot, and they were STILL willing to put her a melanoma away from the nuclear codes.
I want to write about why it is that George W. Bush squeaks by in not one but two questionable elections and the media say he has a mandate and that this is definitively a conservative nation, but Barack Obama and the Democratic Party unleashes a big old can o'whupass on Republicans all over the country, and Obama gets the most votes ever for a presidential candidate, and it just proves that this is definitively a conservative nation
as far as the Very Serious Experts of the Media are concerned.
I want to snark about
how "Not-Joe the Not-a-Plumber" is a welfare queen.
I want to talk about how a well-socialized dog, even a Scottie, does not just
fly into a rage like this unless he's being somehow mistreated, and how a responsible dog owner would have -- dare I say it? -- nipped this behavior in the bud a long time ago, instead of looking the other way at repeated biting incidents.
I want to muse on
why it takes 14 hours a day to write "What Digby Said" and "Whee!" and I can get up at 5 AM, come up with what I think was a very good piece on the Obama win and still leave for a full-time job by 7:30 AM.
I want to urge you to
send a few shekels to Jim Martin, who is in all likelihood going to be involved in a runoff in the still-unresolved Georgia Senate race against Saxby Chambliss, one of the worst flaming bags of poo (™ Marc Maron -- again) ever to occupy space on this earth, let alone the Senate. It was Saxby Chambliss who called Max Cleland, a triple-amputee Vietnam War veteran, a coward in 2002. It was Saxby Chambliss
whose election to the Senate came courtesy of Diebold. The Republicans are going to pour a shitload of money into Chambliss' pockets to try to keep this seat, especially with the Democratic count now sitting at 57, with Al Franken still fighting and Alaska's situation looking and smelling like codfish. If we can prevail in all three of these races through the Georgia runoff and accurate vote counts in the other two states, then Harry Reid can tell Joe Lieberman to take his concern trolling to the other side of the aisle.
I want to write about all these things.
But I'm too tired.
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BUT I also wouldn't count out a cabinet appointment by Obama for, say, one of the Maine republican women, which would conveniently let the dem governor appoint a democrat to the seat. That would be sweet.