If you only read one thing this weekend, read the Anchoress’s advice to Congress.

Via Doug Ross

There is simply no way to avoid reading/hearing/seeing shit about Tiger Woods.

Meanwhile, the country is going straight down the shitter, and most people aren’t paying attention.

Farookin’ pathetic.

PRS Operatives have learned that The One actually wrote a letter to Santa. Of course, we have the exclusive right here.

Dear Santa,

Look, I know I’m the Leader of the Free World, the Most Powerful Man on Earth, Infallible in All Matters, Really Smart and Exceedingly Handsome. I know I have legions of people waiting for me to express my desire for virtually anything so that they can provide it in an instant. You name it — I can travel to anywhere on short notice, I can summon virtually anyone to my office, I can get anyone on the phone anywhere-any time, and I can get a Clark Bar at three a.m.

There are, however, a couple things I could use your help with. So, waddya say? I can make it worth your while. Know what I mean?

Here’s my very modest list:

1. When you visit the White House, perhaps you could remove all the clothes from Michelle’s closets and replace them with grownup things. Once I tried to suggest that it might not be so cool to show up at official functions dressed like Homey the Clown, and my ass is still bleeding.

2. Can you load my mother-in-law into your sleigh and get her the hell out of my hair. Damn, Santa. I’m the goddamned President, and I’m stuck with my mother-in-law. That just ain’t right.

3. Three of four cartons of Marlboros would be nice. Just don’t leave them under the tree. Leave them in my desk drawer, third one down on the left.

4. Any chance you could arrange for Sean Hannity, Mark Levin, Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh all to be on one bus at one time and have it, like, plunge into the Grand Canyon? That would be so sweet. Those guys really piss me off.

5. How about a little pocket mirror that I could keep with me during the day? People tell me I have a nice ass, and I’d like to admire it myself from time to time.

6. Speaking of pocket things, I’d like a new pocket calculator. The one I have can’t do trillions.

7. I’d really like a cape. Rahm says it would be over the top and wouldn’t let me send an aide out to buy one. I think it would be cool, and I think that it is entirely fitting that I should wear a cape.

8. Could you drop off a bunch of crossword puzzle books at Joe Biden’s house? I need to keep him busy. Please make them the easy kind, because he has trouble with three-letter words.

9. .Could you deliver an explodo-virus to Doug Ross’s and the Grouchy Old Cripple’s computers. I hate those guys.

10. Finally, could you drop a big rock on Bill Clinton’s head? I have his annoying wife under control, but that Arkansas goober is trouble with a capital T.

Thanks, and, like I said, there are lots of ways I can make this worth your while. Besides, you really don’t want to piss me off, do you?

Your pal,
Barack

I’m too tired to even think about writing anything.

That is all.

I spent most of the day on autopilot, having been rendered somewhat catatonic by the news of the day, including reports of the assholes in the Senate (led by the utterly despicable Harry Reid) making it up as they go along in order to seize one-sixth of the U.S. economy in the guise of “Healthcare Reform,” not to mention the EPA’s intention to use the Clean Air Act of 1960 to declare carbon dioxide dangerous to human health. (We exhale carbon dioxide and the plants need carbon dioxide to live – details!)

Despite that, I was snapped out of my media-induced catatonia by the incessant Holiday Christmas commercials that turn well-known Holiday Christmas songs into goddamned jingles to sell widgets. It makes me hate the widgets and hate the bastardized Holiday Christmas songs as well. Hell, those jingles make me hate everyfarookin’thing.

I think I need a Holiday Christmas drink and some time with Mr. Recliner.

Sadly, with each passing year, as the memories of the attack of September 11, 2001 and the horrors it brought fade away (or politically morph into a “man-made disaster”), it becomes increasingly important to remind folks of the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, “A date which will live in infamy.”

You can read and hear President Roosevelt’s December 8, 1941 address to congress here.

As a smarter person than I once said, “Those who forget the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it.”

PRS Operatives have learned that between bites of All Things Curry at the recent state dinner held for the Prime Minister of India, many guests were exchanging text messages. PRS’s proprietary technology permitted us to intercept some of the more memorable exchanges. Here is sample:

Hillary Clinton and Nancy Pelosi a/k/a “Pearl”

Pearl: Hey Hilly!

Hillary: Hey Pearl. How RU?

Pearl: Does this food suck enough?

Hillary: Damned straight, but U should C the crap I’ve been eating at some of the shithole countries I’ve been to.

Pearl: LOL! Wanna meet me in the ladies room? I brought some world-class blow with me; we could do a couple lines.

Hillary: Excellent!

Pearl: Besides, I have 2 get out of this chair. My ass is killing me.

Hillary: Wassup w/ that?

Pearl: I have a new pool boy.

Hillary: ??

Pearl: He’s Greek.

Hillary: LOL! Awesome. See U in 5.

Rahm Emmanuel and Joe Biden

Rahm:: Who’s the blonde in the red dress that was all over you like a cheap suit?

Biden: Her name is “Salami” or some shit. Says she’s the Queen of Farookistan.

Rahm: WTF?

Biden: Yeah, she’s a big cheese. I told her I’d plan an official visit to her country.

Rahm: Idiot! There is no country named Farookinstan!

Biden: Are U forgetting who’s the foreign policy expert around here?

Rahm: I damned sure f**king know who’s the f**king moron around here.

Katie Couric and Brian Williams

Katie: Hey, did U C how the President did the toast to the Indian guy?

Brian: U mean how he stuck a cocktail napkin to the side of the glass?

Katie: Yeah. He’s brilliant. That was awesome.

Brian: It really was. I’m going to do that from now on. He’s awesome.

Katie: I’m going to do that too. He really is awesome.

Brian: Very awesome.

Katie: He’s of the most awesome.

November 27th came and went, and I failed to remember that, as of that date, I’ve been doing this blog for seven farookin’ years. I’ve written more than 2,800 posts, and youse guys have left more than 17,000 comments, thank you very much. Collectively, that amounts to lots of time wastage, but the good news is that I’ve met lots of great peeps in the cyber world and in the real world as a result of noodling around with this blog.

I figure that since I’ve stumbled blindly into year number eight, I may as well stick around.

Watch and listen. It applies to all branches of the military.

Thanks to my buddy Brian, the Air Force Vet.

On a night when I had already decided that I was too tired and too crabby to blog, I found this in my email from our Fort Myers Beach pals, Jack and Della. I got a special kick out of it, having just had a close and personal encounter with anesthesia and those excellent peeps who administer it.

These folks are apparently registered nurse anesthetists, but they obviously have vocal talent and a healthy sense of humor as well.