A Change of Face

I begin today’s post on a positive note to applaud President Obama’s uplifting, sincere, and extremely presidential speech at last night’s memorial for the Tucson, AZ, shooting victims. I saw and heard the person for whom I voted to lead the country with both inspiration and pragmatism. What a welcome sight! What a pleasant night! Thank you, Mr. President.

Now, on to flogging, as that’s what this blog is about. Where to begin? Are some of you in a Tucson-focused news fatigue and would like a break from the hate? Would you like to read yet another diss-hiss of Sarah-the-Impaler’s reference to “blood libel” in her misguided iced-as-Alaska video presentation? Oh, the latter would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

I’ll continue to let Palin's video hoist herself on her own petard. Nobody can take this woman down like she can. Apparently she forgot to place herself in her own crosshairs on that now infamous map. She’s quite the shooter, isn’t she? I wonder if she’s on crutches today having misfired into her own foot with what is now yet another case of hoof-in-mouth dis-ease.

On to another potential floggee – the always predictable Rush Out-on-the-Lim-Baugh-Humbugger who has once more opened up his bacteria-infested microphone to spew another round of his version of a verbal 9 mm Glock-fire to take down the evil Democrats, this time on the Tucson shooter’s “situation.”

"What Mr. Loughner knows is that he has the full support of a major political party in this country. He's sitting there in jail. He knows what's going on, he knows that...the Democratic party is attempting to find anybody but him to blame. He knows if he plays his cards right, he's just a victim. He's the latest in a never-ending parade of victims brought about by the unfairness of America...this guy clearly understands he's getting all the attention and he understands he's got a political party doing everything it can, plus a local sheriff doing everything that they can to make sure he's not convicted of murder - but something lesser."

I’m so glad Rushee can get inside the head of an assassin and tell everyone what the guy’s thinking. Hmmmm. Is there some kind of similarity, per chance?

But naw, I’m not gonna go beyond the above for what’s really deserving of a trip to the woodshed. One is them will be around for a while to endlessly flog on a slow news day, and the other may be on their way out of the game…. There is another irritating presence in our culture who consistently triggers GERD symptoms in my body, and it’s about time I let this insipid piece of noise have her moment of blame for insulting the “unwashed masses” with priceless little tips to her beleaguered “common” followers....

You guessed it. Who else could it be but Queen Gwyneth Paltrow? Oh, I know, how disappointing. A simple celebrity rather than Laura Ima-Grim-Ham? Yep. Why? Why not? This poor little bitch girl has such a busy life raising her two children and keeping her body in shape, as well as ensuring that her social life remains uninterrupted whilst eating well and, groan, getting up to send her little ones off to school in starchy uniforms, that she has posted tips to other “working” mothers on how to juggle a busy daily sed-ule over there in London town. My goodness, when I read her GOOP newsletter rundown on what she has to endure, I could barely breathe from the thought of such daunting responsibilities.

Here is one example of how this overworked woman begins her day:

“Got Apple all fed and dressed in her uniform and ready to go but no sign nor sight of Moses at 8 am and we have to be out of the house by 8:20. I went up to arouse the little man from slumber and he quite happily got up and crawled into my arms. We got downstairs and I made him a quick breakfast of eggs and toast followed by a spoonful of lemon flavored flax oil that I try to remember to give them both every morning.”

Whew! That almost caused me to weep. And then, hold on, after the above tasks, she has to do this:

“Did dance aerobics for 45 minutes then all of the butt lifts and the like. Rushed upstairs to have a shower, doing my post workout stretch while the conditioner was doing its magic on my hair to combine activities/save time. Dressed quickly and rushed downstairs.”

I almost hear a Beatles tune running in my head. Oh, sorry, wrong band. I meant Coldplay, her husband’s band. Sorry, Gwen. But now, we get to the fun part:

“At 6:30 pm we all get in the bath and it's hair washing night for the kids (every other night - never popular). Then back downstairs to check on cupcakes and have a visit from an auntie and uncle. The kids indulge in a super sugary cupcake before bed but I don't feel too bad because they had a brown rice stir fry for dinner with baked sweet potato.... ”

Oh, God Bless her, ya’ know?

Following the above, she then slips out for a fun frolic with Stella McCartney and other friends who had been slaving all day to run a household and some kind of “work” that makes them all so tired they must have a “blow-out” of some sort. Oh, to be a fly on the wall…or maybe not. Gwyneth would be certain to find a fly-swatter within seconds, and then write in excruciating detail about the best way to keep those dratted flies away from the table of other working moms out on the town who have the liberty to leave their children home with the “help.”

As Queen Gwyneth is so full of practical advice for those in the “real” world, it’s certain that she would have a nifty way to explain to the waiter the most effective fly-swatting techniques available that she learned from one of her humble servants. You know, just like any “working mom” would do under such despicable circumstances.

'Tis a shame that such a seemingly darling face as dear Gwen has masks a deluded sense of self. Until Katrina, I barely spent a moment thinking about this woman. However, at an awards program immediately following the horror's in New Orleans, one interviewer asked what she was planning to do to help the victims of the flood. Paltrow's expression was akin to one who has been asked their net worth. In her faux British accent, she stammered, "Oh, well, I guess I'll send a check..." and then quickly scurried off to the safety of the dry Red Carpet as if a flood of Katrina victims would wash-up to stain her precious gown.