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Frankenly speaking - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Frankenly speaking

My most vivid dream, in the hour either before or just after the feeding of the four (minus one) at 6 this morning, somehow involved Al Franken.

It was somebody's surprise birthday party; I have no idea who the guest of honor was. I do recall that I saw my father in the crowd- weird, since he looked far more like former Minnesota guv Jesse Ventura than he did like himself (or, for that matter, me). My interactions with Dad were limited, but I distinctly recall hanging out in the back seat of a car (limo? maybe?) with Al F., who I only eventually realized was not a former SNL writer and cast member but a genuine U.S. Senator, and who engaged me in serious political discussion right before our car (limo? maybe?) came under massive machine gun attack from, who knows (Michele Bachmann, maybe?).

Giving the whole thing Teh Freud is that today would have been my father's 98th birthday, the 55th since I was born, and the 28th since he died in 1986 without me having the least amount of regret about it.  However hideous his internal-to-home manners were, he was a decent Democrat in his time, free of prejudices at least to the point of not inflicting any of them on me, so I find it weird that he would wind up subconsciously in the same script as one of the most progressive Democrats of my time now that I'm closer to his age.

Senator F. would have been cringing today had he been listening to the subject of his breakthrough book, memorialized in this entry's icon. For the Drugster was in rare form today. Limbaugh was seriously disappointed by the NFL action over the weekend- not so much by the results, but because the games had been so horribly subjected to what he terms to be "chickification." Kansas City and Indy, despite a thrilling comeback by the latter, was shit because nobody played any manly-man defense. And Green Bay-San Francisco was also suspect, despite the latter's win, because a Packer player defied NFL medical rules and went back into the game despite having clear concussion symptoms, simply by avoiding the coaches and doctors who would've held him out of combat on account of such goldbricking:

Bryan Bulaga, I think, is the starting  left tackle, [Packer] right tackle. He blew out a knee in training camp and has been on injury reserve the whole season. He had a backup named David Bakhtiari, and in the game yesterday, the backup got a concussion, okay? Fine. But you know what he did? He snuck past the doctors and the coaches and he got back in the game, and there were some people in the media really mad about that.

I'm not kidding you. There were stories about this guy. Bakhtiari, I think was his last name. Bakhtiari. Yeah, he's an offensive lineman, and he went out for an extra point try. The doctors were trying to determine if he had a concussion. He said, "To hell with you," and he went back out there. He went back out there -- and, of course, the news story said, "Well, what are a bunch of doctors gonna do?How are a bunch of doctors gonna stop a mad offensive lineman of 300-plus pounds?

"If he wants to go back, he's gonna go back." But the media was livid that this guy was permitted back in the game, livid that he would even try to get back in the game. "The NFL just can't be serious about this concussion business, if you're gonna let this kind of thing happen." The guy didn't want to lose the game. Anyway, I thought it fascinating that a guy might have suffered a concussion, tried and succeeded in putting himself back in the game, and there were some people in the media really upset about it.

Because, yeah, that's the American thing to do- defy medical orders and league-adopted protocols and get back out there to fight for your country. Unless you have zits on your ass, like Rusty did. That was HIS excuse for not serving his country in Vietnam, and nobody, other than possibly Al Franken, seems to notice that.

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