Plese let this be a taste of things to come

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What with the financial meltdown and an increasingly obvious airhead as his VP (read this absolutely hilarious piece in the New Yorker), it's starting to look -- God, I hope -- that McCain is going down. Here's a Globe op-ed making the case. More interesting is the writer's suggestion that we Google "Top 10 McCain meltdowns." Now, I don't mind so much that the guy has a temper -- it's a common problem among power-hungry political/military types and not his biggest fault by any means -- but the list I found is pretty entertaining, especially Meltdown #1 against his own wife in 2000. I just have to quote it in case the link breaks:
Cindy McCain playfully ran her fingers through the Senator's hair and teased, "You're getting a little thin up there." McCain reddened and fired back, "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt."

Well. I can't wait until Kim Jong Il pisses off President McCain and he shouts, "Oh yeah? Well fuck you, Kim! You and your nuclear arsenal can kiss my rosy red wrinkled ass!"

Now for the feature I promised w hile back: greatest hits of my Anatomy and Physiology professor. He's about 5'6" and always wears big baggy dress pants with suspenders, and a baseball cap with the insignia of some military thing in Rhode Island. he's an ex-military guy (I forget which branch) from Dallas with a mighty broad twang and a withering sense of humor. I adore him. Here's him on the first day of class:

I use a card-reading machine to grade exams so it's fair. It's not gonna say "Well, she's a little bit ditsy but she's got a cute giggle" or "He's a little slow but he sure knows the NFL." That machine does not care. All it needs is lots of electricity and a little WD-40 at Christmas time.

A girl asked me once if I was giving any extra credit. I said, "Sure. Take this note to the eighth floor and give it to the fairy godmother." Out she went. She comes back and says "Hey... this building doesn't have an eighth floor!" Guess what? There isn't a fairy godmother either!

How many of you have had children on purpose?

ATP -- adenosine triphosphate. That's the powerhouse of the cell. That's what provides the financin' for the romancin'.

Here's somethin' for those of you who feel the need to write everything down like dutiful, obedient court reporters. It's not about what to think; it's how to think. Are you a mynah bird or a parakeet or somethin'?

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