Oh, look: The long form is here! This will certainly put an end to birther foolishness once and for all. Let’s check… oh, let’s just drop in on a random site to see how the reaction is. How about Facebook?
Must have taken all this time to “produce” it.
OK, well, that’s not a surprise, is it? Now we can move on to the Afterbirther* movement, who will clamor for a sample of the president’s placenta, as well as a small amount of amniotic fluid, just to put the question to rest once and for all.
* “Afterbirthers” — an Onion story. But you believed it, for a minute, didn’t you?
Because yesterday was a killer and today will be the same, how about some good odds, ends and bloggage? Yesterday it occurred to me my phone might work better if I stripped out some of the old crap cluttering up the innards. I trashed most of the pictures. Here’s one I deleted — my husband with a pair of underpants on his head:
He doesn’t normally wear underpants on his head, but the metadata on the photo tells the story: Taken April 16, 2010. He was scraping and painting the boat bottom, an annual chore. He puts blown-elastic boxer shorts on his head to keep the paint dust out of his ears. If anyone at the boat yard thinks it’s odd, they don’t say anything.
It isn’t just Michigan that lost ground in the 2000s. A Dayton Daily News project looks as the “lost decade” in numbers, and they’re pretty scary:
Since 2000, Ohio’s total annual private payroll dropped by $22 billion, the examination found, a devastating economic implosion that hit every aspect of Ohio’s economy — from grocery stores, restaurants and retail to government budgets and beyond. As one telling indicator, the Ohio Department of Education said the proportion of youngsters receiving federally subsidized school lunches has reached a record high of four for every 10 students.
It’s the same old story:
Driving the lopsided trade is that the Chinese value their currency far below its true value, under-pricing U.S. goods. And that’s not all. Protracted trade disputes that threaten even more local jobs have ensnared key Miami Valley industrial employers such as NewPage and AK Steel.
“I have told one Chinese delegation after another that we don’t like the fact that you manipulate your currency,” (Gov. John) Kasich said in his State of the State address. “And it will stop.”
Really? It will? Send me a postcard.
I don’t follow sports much, although I should, given the amount of public money showered on these zillionaire team owners. But I appreciate a good sneery rant as much as the next gal, and this one, about Frank McCourt, former owner of the L.A. Dodgers, is pretty good:
Frank McCourt bought the Dodgers, a team he couldn’t afford, using money he didn’t have. In a deal that only could’ve happened in the 2000s, McCourt got a $145 million loan from Fox—the Dodgers’ previous owner—to purchase the team, using his parking lots in Boston as collateral. (McCourt defaulted on the loan, and Fox sold the lots.) The team, meanwhile, accrued more than $400 million in debt from 2004 to 2009. In perhaps the most egregious example of McCourt-style accounting, the owner charged his team rent to play in its own stadium, with the proceeds being used to pay the family’s personal bills.
In other words, Frank McCourt was just like every other rich jerk in recession-era America, not to mention the owners of the Mets and the Rangers. The Dodgers fiasco has allowed me to see the greed that caused the financial crisis up close. I don’t have massive investments, and I sold my house before the market crashed. Luckily, I didn’t have a ton to lose in this recession. Instead, I watched someone gamble hundreds of millions that weren’t his, on a baseball team I love, and come up snake eyes.
Via Hank, a great read that should be subtitled: You want the glamorous life of an author? Enjoy one writer’s remembrance of his Uncle Bill, who published 25 books you’ve never heard of:
Bill took great delight in turning any family occasion into a debacle, which I appreciated, kind of:
Florida, 1968–Family vacation. We climb a tower at a scenic overlook. When everyone else is climbing down, Bill grabs me by the ankles and hangs my scrawny, seven-year-old ass, Pip-like, above the Everglades. When I scream and squirm like a psychotic shrimp, he tells me now you know what it feels like to be scared.
Extremely entertaining read, with much truth within.
Tom & Lorenzo on another Michelle Obama outfit, but you should click through for the photos of Malia at the White House Egg Roll, who is apparently growing into a willowy beauty with an inseam as long as her father’s. When did these children do all this growing, says the woman who just went through three years of iPhone photos.
Finally, for you Detroiters: There’s a Critical Mass bike ride Friday night IF IT EVER STOPS RAINING, followed the next day by races at the Dorais Velodrome, both of which I plan to attend IF IT EVER STOPS RAINING. Details here.
But I don’t think it ever will. Stop raining, that is. On to the Mangle. Happy Wednesday, all.