In honor of the 44th President, this week I went looking for some songs about the good ole US of A. There’s actually a current ranking of patriotic songs, which I must admit seems a little bizarre. But people listen to the nose flute, so who am I to judge?

Crying update. Yesterday, I was overcome with emotion about Obama for the first time since November 5th. I've been searching for the video of Pam, who introduced Obama in Philadelphia at the kick-off of the whistle-stop tour. When I find it, I'll post it. Until then, you'll have to take my word for it. She was fantastic and my eyes filled with tears.

Since November 4th, serious Obama detractors have gone underground. Not as far underground as I would like them to be (think center of the earth), but they've been pretty quiet on the airwaves. Sure, there's still Mitch McConnell and other Republican leaders bleating about one thing or another and there's still that guy that insists Obama was born in Kenya, but all in all, the negativity surrounding Obama has been with regard to the shit sandwich he is inheriting rather than the man himself.

I read The Audacity of Hope a few years back. Before that, I heard Barack Obama's 2004 convention speech and I followed his Senate campaign. I had only been gone from Chicago for two years at that point, and I still felt like Illinois politicians were my politicians. 

Are you the type of person that reads the last chapter first? I never, ever do that. Why ruin the ending? But to every rule, there must be an exception. At least that's what I'm telling myself today.

In the book, The American Presidency, edited by Alan Brinkley, I'm stuck in chapter 3, with Thomas Jefferson. There are just too many distractions and, well, it's not like Jefferson's story isn't going to be there when I decide to get back to it. 

Our resident Czech, Codegen86, tells me that I should spend several weeks sampling Czech music before reaching any sort of general conclusion, and I think he is probably right. But I just don't have that kind of time! I've at least been able to identify what I would consider three different broad categories of modern Czech music, though I'm sure I'm leaving many out.

At least now, there never has to be a movie with Rodney Dangerfield playing the president.

My New Year’s resolution for 2009 is to keep myself entertained. And, I ask you, what could be more entertaining than launching a worldwide exploration of music together? We’ll be starting our tour in South America—specifically Brazil, because I have a special place in my heart for all things Brazilian.

Befitting such a large and geographically diverse country, the musical styles of Brazil run the gamut from Bossa Nova to Rap to Metal. But my favorite style, not just of Brazil, but of any music anywhere, is Samba.

It seems somewhat unnecessary to rave about a Meryl Streep performance. Ditto with Philip Seymour Hoffman. But in Doubt, they’ve both turned in flawless performances that left me with my jaw on the floor. The two screen giants are joined by Amy Adams. I’ve never seen Adams in a dramatic role before and I was impressed. In Doubt she more than holds her own.

Ah, vindication.

Yesterday, I felt like I was the only one criticizing the Roland Burris pick for Roland Burris (as opposed to Blagojevich having the gall to make an appointment in the first place).

Today, the truth about Burris and his planet-sized ego is coming out.

Some fun links:

Burris already has his grave site, complete with a massive memorial.

Roland Burris? I haven't paid much attention to Illinois politics in a while, but when I was still paying attention, Roland Burris, a once respected elected official, had turned into a sad caricature of himself.

Some highlights: 

I used to watch The West Wing. In one of the very first episodes, the fictional president gets a briefing from the fictional Chairman of the Joint Chiefs in which the term “proportional response” is explained. The president is angry because terrorists shot down a military transport plane carrying someone with whom he had a personal relationship and he is ready to unleash the power of the United States military in retribution. The Chairman patiently explains that when they shoot down one of our planes, we take out a target that would be considered equitable.

After 9/11, the Department of Homeland Security gave us a nicely color-coded Fear Chart, so that we, the American people, would know just exactly how afraid we are. You know how Deadman was saying the other day that he uses the Weather.com minute-by-minute forecast to know when to walk his dog? That’s kind of how I am with the Homeland Security Fear Chart. Because without it, I wouldn’t have any idea how scared I was.

Dear fellow Liberals,

Listen up.

Obama's decision to ask Rick Warren to give the invocation at the inauguration is not a slap in the face. It's not a betrayal. It's not an indication that Obama is a secret conservative who is going to force you to have babies with a non-same-sex partner.

It's a freaking prayer.

I've been doing a lot of research into my family history lately, for this little project I'm working on. I'm following lines back into the past, trying to figure out who came over, when they came over, etc. It's interesting stuff. So interesting that I stayed up all night on Saturday, compulsively searching for more and more information. I finally fell asleep somewhere around 6 am, and when my dog woke me at 10 to go out, I got up and started searching some more. (Which is why I was so (apparently) mean to our new guest blogger Prophet on Sunday.

The other night, I was talking to a friend when she suggested that feminists were to blame for the current economic crisis. It was hyperbole, I’m certain. Although at the time I changed the subject because I was so shocked to learn that she felt that way.

My reading of The American Presidency by Alan Brinkely continues. Chapter Two: John Adams. Here's what I learned...

Adams grew up in the country town of Braintree, Massachusetts. They later changed the name of the town to Quincy to disguise the fact that the uncommon intelligence of the townspeople was attributed to a tea made from the leaves of the magical tree.

I’ve known a lot of doctors in my life. And when I say known, I mean spent five minutes in a small room with, while I explained what was wrong with me after which they made their diagnosis and got irritated when I asked my inevitable questions.

What can I say? I like to learn stuff. I’m inquisitive that way.

I love books. And I love talking about books--more than politics. Actually, WAY more than politics.

Right now, I'm reading Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan. It's a fictionalized version of a love affair that Frank Lloyd Wright had with a woman he designed a house for. So far, I like it and I especially like that it happened in Oak Park, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago where Wright designed many houses. I'm not far enough into it yet to say much more than that.

No matter where each of us finds ourselves on Thanksgiving Day, we all no doubt have reasons to be thankful. I am thankful for family and friends; for my sweet dog, who found me in March; for the opportunity to work hard to bring about something that hasn't happened in my lifetime--a Democrat winning my state's electoral college votes. I am thankful for summer, for music, for the fact that Chicago is only a couple hours away. I'm thankful for the people in my life that challenge me to be better.