The Swarm

Most days, I come across great topics for cartoons, but am swamped doing other things. Like drawing cartoons. Sometimes these micro-cartoon events may deserve their own comment, but usually I just either throw them away, or put them on Facebook, with my descriptions of what I ate for dinner involving arugula.

This week I saw a few things that lightly to heavily bothered or amused me.

--The Great Barack Obama Shotgun Assertion. This week the president said that he frequently went skeet shooting at Camp David, which has not previously been reported in the news media, nor have any photographs been released of this hobby. The CMM (Conservative Mainstream Media--Drudgefox, etc.) snorted that Obama was basically lying. Honestly, I cannot fathom why in the world the president would bother to lie about this. I suspect there are many hobbies this and previous presidents have enjoyed in the privacy of Camp David which weren't photographed, either, ranging from poker games to intern bathing. So, I believe Obama when he says he was skeet shooting.

--John Kerry LuvFest 2013. Remember when John Kerry was the stiff, tedious inappropriate windsurfer? Now he's the most qualified, bestest-ever in the history of the United States candidate for Secretary of State. This official re-baptism and re-apotheosis of former presidential candidates isn't new (#Hillary2016), but in Kerry's case, it was kind of surprising to me. After all, he managed to blow a very winnable 2004 election by acting like a more entitled, stiffer Al Gore. He was confirmed by his colleagues to the tune of 94-3 (only Sens. Cornyn and Cruz, R-Planet Texas, and some other cranky colleague passed on the coronation).

After having spent my entire adult life in the lovely, damp confines of California's northernmost county, Oregon, I was a bit concerned that my new adopted state might not have, you know, any exciting political events to cover.

(Insert irony here).

After all, in Oregon, we worry extensively about things like the spotted owl, the wanderings of wolves, and, if there's big action, maybe a Japanese dock will wash up on our beach we can have our pictures taken in front of. So when I came to California, I was thinking that, sure, they're a faster league, but how much different could it be?

Well.

--We didn't have the Maloofs. Our basketball team owner, Paul Allen, was just like Steve Ballmer but more dashing and charismatic (really NICE pocket protector!), so he built Portland its very own arena, relieving Portlanders of the responsibility to do anything other than lightly observe the Blazers at their leisure. People in Portland don't really talk about the Blazers with any more passion than they would discuss the gas company. The Blazers are like a utility: they're there, they work, and, snore, get me another cup of overly-engineered coffee.