I was going to write a long post about the last-minute fiscal cliff avoidance scheme, which -- according to my spies -- Congress enacted simply to keep another Cannonfire prediction from coming true. (Previous posts had forecast that there would be no deal.) But to tell you the truth, this old noggin is still far too spinny and dizzy and mucus-filled and flu-beset to come to any firm conclusions -- about the budget, about taxes, about anything.
But I think
I would have preferred going over.
On the other hand, the Big Deal means that the unemployment bennies will keep spewing for another year, and I guess that's a good thing. At least Riverdaughter won't be forced to...you know. She won't have to live the horrible degraded way I
live, searching pocket lint for change in order to scrape up enough coinage to buy a package of off-brand mac and cheese. She has actually rooted for going over the cliff
. That's admirable.
Also admirable is what Ross Douthat
has to say...
As I’ve suggested before, these negotiations amounted to a test of liberalism’s ability to raise revenue, and it isn’t clear that this outcome constitutes a passing grade: If a newly re-elected Democratic president can’t muster the political will and capital required to do something as straightforward and relatively popular as raising taxes on the tiny fraction Americans making over $250,000 when those same taxes are scheduled to go up already, then how can Democrats ever expect to push taxes upward to levels that would make our existing public progams sustainable for the long run?
I think Douthat is saying tax cuts don't work tax cuts don't work tax cuts don't work
. If he's not saying that, he should. Because tax cuts don't work.
Enough. Let's focus on what's really important. On my New Year's resolution. Which is this: To grow a magnificent
My stupid beard has always been short and scraggly and ugly. All the hairs want to escape my face and can't agree on a direction.
This year, through sheer willpower (and maybe some commercial product) I will tame
this beard, control it, soften it, lengthen it, unfurl its power.
What bugs me is the color. Right now, it's all salt-and-peppery -- not an unusual thing at this age, and not really unwelcome. The problem is that much of the pepper is on the left side while the salt is on the right. This defies any sense of cosmic symmetry.
I'm thinking of going almost entirely silver, like Sean-Connery-as-General-Ramius. (But longer.) This is not a bad look for a man of a certain age. And while I may not be able to convey Connery's aura of leonine sexual mastery, I can
glower at people and tell them to fuck off. That will do.
Hell, I may even buy a ushanka, if funds permit. But not one with a Soviet naval insignia, because Russians laugh at the silly American tourists who wear those.
The big alternative to going silver would be to dye the whole beard to look peppery. No. A stupid option, that. People will laugh.
Another alternative would be to bleach it white and try to get work as a Santa next December.
Or maybe I could dye it an unnatural blue, in reference to Joan of Arc's most notorious general. Did I ever tell you about him?
I'd be grateful for any feedback on the important topic of beardiness. Check back here later today. If this flu has let up, I may actually post something non-surreal. Until then, remember the kangaroos.