Obsequious... I Had To Look That Up

"We are enjoined not to speak ill of the dead. But, when an entire nation — or, at any rate, its “mainstream” media culture — declines to speak the truth about the dead, we are certainly entitled to speak ill of such false eulogists. In its coverage of Sen. Edward M. Kennedy’s passing, America’s TV networks are creepily reminiscent of those plays Sam Shepard used to write about some dysfunctional inbred hardscrabble Appalachian household where there’s a baby buried in the backyard but everyone agreed years ago never to mention it."

No need to include more, Mark Steyn says it all right here.

Some House Keeping

Hi. You'll notice in the upper left that I've added a gadget to allow you to subscribe to the latest Mr. O posts. If you use one of the listed feed readers, you can sign up to follow Mr. O.

Also, at the bottom left, I've added a feed from my Twitter page.

Exciting news, I know.

UPDATE: I've also added a new qu -O -te section... look left as well. As O talks and talks more and more, there are some mutterings that must be shared.

UPDATE... One more time: I've also added a feed at the lower left hand side of the page to the Resch Strategies Message Board blog. Enjoy the work talk.

Ah, Memories

As O's mom and I approach our 10 year wedding anniversary, this story got me reminiscing. Not of the beautiful location where our wedding was held (a church) or the time and resources we and our parents invested in the event.

No, it got me thinking of art.

Oh, how I feel this poor girl's pain. Although, I think I can one-up her.

You see, on the day before our wedding, we visited our lovely reception hall to deliver flowers and other decorations. The hall was home to the Fort Wayne Woman's Club... the fine art connoisseurs of Northeast Indiana. We'd booked it months in advance.

As we walked in, something was different. Hmmm. What was it? Oh yes. The tastefully pale green walls of the banquet room were covered in "art."

You see, the ladies of the Woman's Club have an "art show" every fall, an evidently very important annual event that must have slipped their minds at the time we booked the room. And, by "show" I mean they stack gas station parking lot paintings one on top of the other, three and four high, covering every inch of available wall space.

It was lovely, as the police report would have surely noted if my dear wife-to-be had not been restrained.

"It's art," the woman with a death wish kept repeating. "You should be thanking us that your guests get to enjoy this at your reception at no extra charge."

In the end, we took down a couple of pieces here and there, just to give the impression that a wall actually stood there, poured and drank lots of wine and the event went off beautifully. No one even mentioned the art. At least no one who lived to tell about it.

UPDATE: Problem solved. Mowing. We should've tried that.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Baseball was sooooo two weeks ago. It's football season!

Now He Tells Me

So, government health care will be just like the Post Office. Why didn't he say so earlier? Sign me up.



Seriously, as you watch this clip you can see his mind going gangbusters trying to find the perfect analogy to illustrate his point. And he comes up with the Post Office?

Long lines. Four customer service windows; one open. Unreliable service. Seemingly annual price increases to meet the "needs" of an unwieldy bureaucracy.

Hmm. Maybe he did find the perfect analogy.

UPDATE: Yeah, like he said.