Once, back in the eighties, long before his current romantic problems, Dave Letterman interviewed some perfectly gorgeous actress. I can't remember which one, but I'm pretty sure she wasn't just the latest hottie. Anyway, Letterman, as is his wont, was flirtatious as hell. Then the actress suddenly threw him off by asking him out on a date.

Dave hemmed and hawed amusingly and tried to joke his way out of it, but she insisted that she was serious. At that point he stopped clowning and demurred gracefully (I'm not sure if he was seeing anyone at the time), to which the audience hooted and howled in dismay.

"Oh, like you have a CHANCE!" Letterman said to the audience, getting big laughs.

I come back to that whenever I see anyone offering advice or criticism on situations they have no real input on, or which they'll never experience themselves.

Politically, let's consider two situations where we might be tempted to kvetch. In the case of a president who pulls us into a war, spending our tax dollars and wasting our soldiers' lives, we have an investment—we can comment freely. It's a matter of import that affects us all personally. In the case of an accomplished young man who worked his way to the top, and who has already made progress in opening dialogues and turning back the horrors created by his predecessor (and yes, he has much work ahead of him)—who are we to say he doesn't deserve a prize that extols humanity's highest ideal?

If nothing else, the Nobel Peace Prize is a polite "up yours" to the dark forces. It offers the recipient an opportunity to direct the world's attention toward his or her pet peace project. That, to me, is the real prize. Complaining about the president receiving the prize for whatever quibbling, social faux pas-fearing, hand-wringing reason is the sort of counterproductive whinging that lost us elections for a decade.

Maybe it's just the Midwesterner in me, but when someone offers me a Nobel Peace Prize, I always say, "Why, thank you. What a gracious gesture! This is a marvelous opportunity to talk to the world about subjects dear to my heart, like human rights, healthcare, disarmament, and the environment." I do that every time I win one.

But wait, I've never won a peace prize. Never will either. And neither will most of you, sorry.

But Barack Obama did, and I think he's a fine choice. So, before you criticize the man because a group of Swedes decided to award him with a shiny bauble previously worn by some pretty fine pieces of humanity, just think for a moment about what you'd do in that situation.

And if you persist in your bitchiness, just remember: "Oh, like you have a CHANCE!"

I don't have a bad life. I know this. I have my health, a happy home, a wife who peels my lunch orange†, and the rest, but lately existence has been like eating a perfectly acceptable sandwich, only to discover with various bites that the bread is soggy, the meat a bit rancid, the lettuce wilted, the tomato mealy, and so on. That's life, I know. It won't kill me, but it's not making me stronger, or very happy, either. I'm in one of my muttering of dark imprecations phases. I hate when I mutter dark imprecations.

Ye list of bitching:

* I'm not one to complain about the weather. I usually just suck it up and deal with it. However... Chicago's weather absolutely sucks lately. It's not simply unpleasant, it's gross, and it's keeping me from accomplishing a lot of things. I was reviewing old entries, and the first snow took place on December 1 of last year. So, that's three months of winter, with several snowfalls bunching up toward the end.** The piece de resistance has been the steady snow, sleet, rain, snow, sleet, rain, snow pattern, which led to me being sploshed by some asshole in an SUV who didn't want to wait his turn in the traffic jam down my street. Never before have I yelled, "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" at a complete stranger. Ready for blood vengeance, my friends, I was madder than a wet Dan.

* Because of the sleet, rain, and snow and the frozen earth, the backyard has been transformed into a slushy lake. The same thing happened when we had those major storms back in October. I'm not sure if this is something we should worry about, but it doesn't bode well. Fortunately, we've had minimal basement leakage. I think we need to lay new concrete paths and gutters on either side of the house and talk to someone about sealing up the perimeter.

* I just can't seem to escape this book. To quote Ian Curtis, "Where will it end?" It's strange to accomplish so much yet feel no sense of accomplishment.

* Family stuff. I don't want to talk about it here. Some people better start thinking about the future is all I'll say.

* This was one of those No Exit weeks. I've been having a lot of them. My daily life seems to run this way:

a. Wake up
b. Go to work
c. Come home
d. Go to sleep
e. Repeat.

I mean, I'm grateful it's not:

a. Wake up
b. Go to work
c. Come home
d. Get raped by gorilla in clown suit
e. Go to sleep
f. Repeat.

But sheesh.

Thankfully, the weekend holds a few interesting sidelines.

* Goddamned Earthlink is having their annual inexplicable service outage. I've already dealt with "Michael Seamus O'Flaherty" in New Delhi, doing all the little tricks he suggested, even though—and as I told him—I knew the problem was on their end. I predict we'll get our service back by Monday. Sometimes it's good to have no Internet service. Then one is forced to read, talk to one's spouse, play Boggle, and build a trebuchet. Most of the time it's just a pain in the ass.

Psalm 35
17 How long, O LORD, will you look on?
Rescue me from their ravages,
my life from the lions!

Fucking lions!!!


† Nonsexual inside joke.

** "Well! Here in _______ we've had 546 inch snowfalls, Dan!" I understand and empathize, but I'm concerned about the snow that's fallen on MY head.