Friday, July 02, 2004


Ah, Rave, it’s finally Friday!

“Does that mean that you’re going to make coffee?” Raven looks a little down in the feathers this morning.

What were you up to all night that you’re dragging your tail today?

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Raven pecks at a dish of granola.

Okay. When you’re ready to join the living again, can we talk about Saddam Hussein?

“If you make me coffee. Wait a minute, I thought that guy was yesterday’s newspapers. What’s he up to now?”

The Bush Gang turned him over to the Iraqis. Well, to the quote Iraqis end quote.


He had to be arraigned before an Iraqi judge, apparently. And during that process he identified himself as the President of Iraq, and said that the whole thing was pure theater, that Bush was the real criminal.

“Hmmm. What is this, What’s My Line? But you know, he may have a point there. Part of a point, anyway.”

How’s that?

“Part of a point in that it’s a question of scale. There seems to be little doubt that Hussein peed in the Iraqi sandbox for quite a few years. However….I think I smell coffee with cinnamon!”

Your olfactories are working just fine, guy. So he peed in the sandbox, and….?

“So far as I know, the difference appears to be one of scale. O sea, that he peed in a relatively small sandbox, compared to the planetary sandbox that Bush continues to pee in. Taking into consideration that Hussein was in power for 35 years….”

I get the picture, Rave. He was fouling his nest, and Bush is fouling everyone else’s nest.

“You’re sure you’re not a bird? Interesting bird behavior analogy there.”

Thanks, Rave. I am one of the lower-flying species, unfortunately. I think you were right when you said this is What’s My Line? as there are people out there who have trouble picking Bush out of the lineup.

“Then they need to ask the question that the guy on the program always asked.”

Will the real criminal please stand up?

“Exactly. Since Bush believes he’s the only person on the planet who matters, he will undoubtedly stand up. A clear confession of both stupidity and guilt.”

Gee, guy, for the shape you were in a few minutes ago, you’re bouncing back very fast.

“Me, and Wile E. Coyote. It’s the coffee, stupid.”

Monday, June 28, 2004


Raven is crawling his way through the newspaper.

“It’s nice to have the real paper, instead of having to read everything on the computer screen.”

Uh huh.

“Don’t worry—only caged birds have a Pavlovian reaction to newspapers.”

Glad to hear it. What’s up on the international front?

“The usual car bombs and the dance of the body parts. Oh, yeah—and a follow-up to Dick Cheney’s F-word caper in the US Senate.”


“There’s a photo here of King Juan Carlos of Spain giving the finger to a group of Basque protestors.”

You’re kidding.

“Moi? Not likely.”

Rave grabs the page in his beak and with his feet tears out a photograph.

“I think this needs to go up on the refrigerator door. Right next to Mad Dog Cheney snarling.”

You know, Rave, when I open that door it’s because I am looking for food to cook.

“Okay, I get the point. I’ll put up the photos in the bathroom.”