This will seem incongruous to my previous criticism of her, but it was a pleasure speaking with Governor Chris Gregoire at Taylor Shellfish Farms yesterday. She was there to meet with members of the Puget Sound Partnership she formed in 2007 to help restore our polluted inland sea.
Just last June, President Obama renewed his pledge to pursue green jobs and a "clean energy revolution," while speaking at a General Electric plant in North Carolina. To many observers of the president’s energy policy, those words played like rhetorical theater, considering his administration had just approved a massive expansion of coal mining in Wyoming.
The Rapture did not live up to my expectations. In fact, I was turned away upon arrival for arguing that my dog should also be admitted.
"For Christ's sake!" I howled. "What friggin' kind of heaven don't allow no dogs?"
The woman at the reception counter wore a heavily starched white uniform and looked a lot like Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. "I am sorry," she patronized, "but dogs simply aren't allowed in heaven."
You may find that these time honored reposts come in handy when confronted with the hostile, the sleazy and/or the patently stupid. For instance:
• Upon being dealt the age card by a snide, narcissistic hipster, as in, "Dude, are you kidding? You're too friggin' old." You must at once assure the pretentious offender, "Actually, I can guarantee that you won't look this good when you're my age. "Really?" the sophomoric douchenozzle will invariably say, "how can you guarantee that?"
My name is Nova Silverman. I am — or was — a business associate and a close friend of Stephan Michaels'. I am sorry to report that, after enduring many months of public ridicule over his outspoken editorials and finger wagging admonishments, Stephan's battles with his critics and detractors have come to an abrupt end.
Playing with my dog yesterday; she kept looking around as though someone or something was approaching. Odd behavior, as we were alone in the park. Suddenly, an orange planetary-like orb appeared, hovering in the air right before her face. She took off inexplicably towards the far end of the field, and then everything went dark. When the light returned, my dog was gone.
I have never been a fan of anything from Texas, except for the music scene in Austin. You can keep Dallas and Houston, their oil moneyed politicians and them "Big 'Ol Texas Bugs." In fact, when Lyle Lovette deputized everyone at the Greek Theater an honorary Texan afew years ago, I volleyed back from the 3rd row, "Hey, bud, easy with the insults."