I'm Back...Gosh, I missed you guys.

I can't believe vacation is over and tomorrow is back to the grind of processing the newly departed.  It's like that old joke's punchline, "Tea time's over, back on your heads."  (For those not familiar go here and scroll to joke #12.)

I like cruises, but by the time we pull into final port I'm most assuredly done and done.  Seven days of high octane breakfast, lunch and dinner is more than enough for anyone and I needs to hie me to the gym pronto.  (They had one on the ship, of course.  It was the room covered in cobwebs that you passed on the way to the ice cream bar.)  That being said, Hawaii, to this drought exhausted Californian, is really purty, AND REALLY REALLY GREEN!  I particularly enjoyed seeing Punchbowl National Cemetery (Ernie Pyle is buried there) and some really cool old Japanese and Chinese cemeteries.  Nice to see old fashioned headstones and monuments.  It hearkened back to a time when cemeteries were cemeteries, as opposed to memorial parks.  Pearl Harbor was awesome in the most literal sense of the word.  They have actual survivors that volunteer there.  Amazing stories.  I'm glad I finally visited Hawaii before I shed the mortal coil, but to be honest I don't want to hear the words aloha, mahalo or any twenty syllable word ending in a vowel for at least another decade.  Ditto that horrible music and clothing in tropical prints.

So what went on while I was gone?  Well, from what I could glean from the spotty cable and the $8.00 per minute internet available on the ship, about what you'd expect for a long holiday weekend.

The Wimp and The Blimp.  

I just can't get enough.

How 'bout you?

I see that The Bamster's poll numbers keep sliding down the bannister of the American consciousness.  Buyer's remorse?  To add another lump of coal to our economically dreary Christmas stocking we'll apparently be treated to an Oprah and Obama Christmas special.  Special????  How can you be special when you're already on the goddam tube 24 hours a day?  For god's sake, leave us alone.  Oprah and Obama's numbers are tanking in tandem and for some reason I don't think that Michelle and the girls sweet talking and goo-gooing with Santa is going to help.

OK, Fred.  You can take off the bear suit.

The jig is up.

In more Obambi news.  Our globe trotting globalist citizen-of-the-world historic-in-all-he-does president  will be heading to Copenhagen to dazzle the planet with his receding ocean act.  Oops.  Bad timing, Mr. President, as the scandal of the Climate Research Unit's emails goes viral and exposes global warming as the trumped up scam that it always was.  Science?  We don't need no stinking science.  Conclusion first, then we make the facts fit the conclusion.  See how much easier that is?  Especially when all we want to do is reorder the world economy and change the way every person on the planet lives their life.  Albert Einstein, Jonas Salk and all the other great scientists of history must be spinning in their graves.  These global warming charlatans are worse than political hacks.  We expect politicians to fudge and lie.  We like to think that scientists are better than that.  Well guess what?  When they have an agenda, they're not.

At least one of these phonies has been elected to something.  

Can you guess who?

The White House had its first state dinner the other night.  It was in honor of the Prime Minister of India whose name I'm not even going to bother trying to spell.  Anyway, a couple of famewhore grifters by the name of Michaele and Tareq Salahi, managed to sashay their uninvited asses into the White House for the festivities.  So much for the exalted Secret Service.  (By way of comparison, Mrs. Funeral Guy and I were subjected to TSA level stripping, wanding and "Can I see your papers please?" bullshit everytime we left and came back on the ship.)  I do think some of the commentary has been a bit overwrought, however.  I actually heard one talking head say upon seeing the picture of the two mountebanks meeting the president, "Why, what if they had been covered in anthrax?"  Oh, yes.  There's a possibility.  And what if the guy had AIDS and just happened to start buggering Obama in the reception line?  Go ahead...laugh.  It could happen.  Michaele Tareq is a semi-good looking blonde, which is what gives this story it's hook.  (Or it's legs, you might say.)  She claims she was a cheerleader for a pro football team and a Victoria's Secret model which has all turned out to be rank mendacity.  I mean, she's boink worthy but she's no cheerleading lingerie model.  Michaele and Tareq are shopping their story around which is a good thing since it turns out they are scammers and deadbeats and owe a lot of people money.  No wonder they were attracted to this White House.

Tiger and the Misses.

Sweet and wholesome.

Wife material.

Speaking of gate crashers.  Tiger Woods, Americas golfing sweetheart, went crashing down his own driveway at 2:25 AM last Friday then subsequently lost a battle with both a tree and a fire hydrant.  Again proving what your mother always said about nothing good ever happening after 2:00 in the morning.  To say the details of this story are murky would be to refuse the Ganges River it's due.  When the police showed up post mayhem there was Tiger, his face decorated with cuts and bruises, lying in the driveway with the Mrs. standing over him holding (wielding?) a golf club.  The official story from the Woods' is that Tiger lost control of the car and Mrs. Tiger used the golf club to smash the rear window (yes, the rear window) so she could pull her meal ticket hubby out of the wreckage.  Safety Note: An injured driver should always be dragged over the seats and through the rear window after a crash.  We should pause here to repeat a little gossip that the family man darling of the golfing world has been rumored to be involved (as they say) with a New York night club hostess by the name of Rachel Uchitel.  Ms. Hotbody has now lawyered up with Gloria Allred which is a sure sign that she is guilty of something.

Rachel "Va Va Voom" Uchitel.  Denyin' or lyin'.

Guys?  What do you think?

Meanwhile, Tiger, has been successfully avoiding a sit down with the coppers.  (Don't you dare try that Mr. Not Famous Golfer, you.)   Every guy in the world knows what happened on this one.  Tiger got caught.  Tiger got clawed in the face (irony alert!).  Then Tiger got chased down the driveway having his back window smashed by an extremely pissed off, golf club swinging Mrs. Tiger (irony alert, again!).  If this would have been you, Mr. Non-Golfer Husband, you'd have been chased with an old-fashioned rolling pin.

Adam Lambert.  

Shrinking violet.

Lastly, in entertainment news.  Adam Lambert, American Idol runner up, dispelled all doubt that he is not only gay but GAAAAAAAY!!!!!!! by performing at the American Music Awards completely nude with a guitar neck up his ass while swishing about the stage with another man's mouth firmly attached to his flesh pole.  I didn't see this happen, mind you, but from what I heard this sounds like the gist of it.  AMERICA WAS OUTRAGED!!!!  At least to the point where Good Morning America cancelled it's interview with the glittery Ms. Lambert.  Adam was unapologetic and sniffed that nobody as much as raised an eyebrow when Britney and Madonna and Christina did their onstage kissing.  Well actually, they did, but anyway, it's clear that Adam doesn't understand that lesbians are hot and people like watching them make out but the same doesn't apply to male homosexuals.  Unfair, AL?  Maybe.  But, alas, true.

Mahalo and aloha.