Stateside with Rosalea Barker: Cry Me A River

::Dredge the Potomac!:: The world's most famous smaw (solo middle-aged woman) has been taking a bit of flak, it seems, from a Russian politician for being such a scold. I was alerted to this by a sort of Outraged Mother of None column in the weekend SF Chron, in which the columnist (also a smaw) quoted the leader of Russia's Liberal Democratic party saying that Condie Rice obviously needed the services of an army.

What the Chron columnist missed was that the original comment is a reference to Catherine the Great's habit of choosing some chap from the barracks to come to her rooms of an evening so she could get some R&R. More of the second R than the first, if you catch my drift. He would then be disposed of so he couldn't sell his story to the equivalent of InTouch magazine, and his body thrown into the Neva.

I personally think Rice is a scold because Putin likes it like that.

::Who moved my plankton?:: Speaking of bodies in a river, here's hoping that Tony Blair is astute enough to realize that the whale in the Thames was trying to tell him something. As the oceans warm, plankton is dying and without that basic link in the food chain all life on this planet is doomed.

He may have been a very large canary, but canary that whale was. With tragic synchronicity, even the earth added her weight to the ocean-leaver's appeal for sanity. Who could help but notice that the mine disaster taking place that same weekend was in a place called Melville?

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