Remember the scenes in Star Trek where the Enterprise was hurtling at incredible speed down through the atmosphere of some planet, and the hull was beginning to glow red, the crew was being bounced from wall to wall, the warning lights were flashing, and there was that characteristic whooping sound that meant "red alert?" Spock would be hanging onto that thing he always looked into and would say "Forward shields are gone, Captain. Hull breach in sections three through eight." Steam would inexplicably burst from the panels in front of some unknown crew member, knocking him to the ground. "Sick Bay, medical emergency on the bridge," Kirk would shout into the arm of his chair. "I'm a Dahc-tor, Jim, not a meat packer. Sick Bay is already overflowing with casualties." "Captain," Scotty would shout. "She can't take anymore. We're breaking up!" Remember those scenes?
Two more years of Bush.
Just two unrelated, random thoughts on a cold January night in 2007.
Happy New Year everyone. And good luck.
The Robin is a winter bird for us, so when she comes bob-bob-bobbing along, we know that it's time for the rains. When they get here, they are all on vacation, having left behind their regular jobs as corporate secretaries and school principals at all-boys schools. They are used to being ogled. Indeed, these birds have an extremely good self image. No sluts, they are, however, comfortable in letting their feminine assets work for them. Shoulders back, chin high, the little Mona Lisa smile, that's all it takes and guys are dropping grub at their feet and slapping mud and grass on the nest.
That's the way it is. Guys like confidence, and intelligence, and style. We don't just stand there and say "Holy cow, look at the feathers on that one!" We respond to grace, wisdom and wit.
No kidding. We do. Honest.
I'm not joking.