Hammer Mill Days

Gonna' pump some liquid oxygen... and twirl my sextant dial. I said I'm gonna' pump some liquid oxygen... and twirl my sextant dial. And when I lift you off that launch pad... baby you know you'll ride in style. Oh, yeah! Yeah, sounds like we need a little more chunkiness in the rhythm section. What? Oh... we have visitors. Hello, blogsters. It's your old pal Bozo. Nothing like a little blues to take your mind of your troubles, eh? And a little country western to put it back on 'em. (Keep talkin' like that, and more than a few Texans'll want to treat me kinda ugly.) Yeah, we're just working our way down to our departure time. What will our interstellar conveyance be? Glad you asked. It's about time someone asked. No one around the Hammer Mill has bothered inquiring. A strange disinterest has taken hold of Big Green and its entourage, apparently. It entered the room like a miasma, pulled up a chair and made itself at home. Honestly, I d...

President Obama is on vacation this week, sort of. Him and about a thousand other people, bringing him information, taking his orders, blah, blah. I don't know why he bothers, but... he does. With that job, you may as well assume that you're going to be working straight for four to eight years. Even so, every American president since Carter has been determined not to seem like he's barricaded in to the White House, manning his vigil in vain. So Obama, like his predecessors, takes a ceremonial vacation, and his detractors take aim. Of course, they would anyway. He has locked himself into Washington! He's out of touch with (white) America! they would cry if he were to cancel his outing. May as well go, Barry. Frankly, if he were to come back from the Vineyard with a Jobs / Recovery Act proposal that involves bold efforts to fund infrastructure projects, incentivize hiring, raise taxes on the rich, and so on, I would be the first to say that the man has earned his rest...