Columns » Bob Lancaster

Grace, 2009



Thanks for the water tasting like fish so much of the time now. What's up with that?

Thanks for the high degree of intelligence that's so evident in the public affairs of Texas.

Thanks for South Carolina's instructive example of how we might all do a better job of being a bunch of pricks.

Thanks for the high morale, good cheer, cordiality, unfailing courtesy, and optimism that have characterized the U.S. in 2009 so far.

Thanks for what's happened to editorial standards, in book publishing as well as newspaper publishing.

Thanks for the power outages every time there's a little sleet.

Thanks for the panic and the utter gridlock that a little freezing rain can cause.

Thanks for the incredible brevity of the trip, and how quickly afterward it can be seen to have amounted to a hill of beans, more or less.

Thanks for the prime-time interruptions to keep us up to date on storms that might threaten Corning or Ogemaw.

Thanks for the soothing autumnal weekend music of leaf-blowers in concert, turned on high.

Thanks for what the other computer user in the house calls the rolling ball of death.

Thanks for the general exalted tenor of the public discourse in 2009.

Thanks for the late-season population explosion hereabout of pygmy rattlesnakes.

Thanks for the enemy of humanity who invented the co-pay.

Thanks for all the ugly names — obese, corpulent, lard-assed, etc. — given to a condition once appreciated for making people jolly.

Thanks for the ongoing shameless Wall Street weasel bonus grab.

Thanks for all the counting-house mugwumps pushing ahead of us peasants in the swine-flu shot line.

Thanks for how do-it-yourself home improvement projects always turn out.

Thanks for the doughnut hole in Medicare D.

Thanks for the discovery of water on the moon. That's a big load off.

Thanks for Branson and that mindset.

Thanks for the menu distinction at the Whippet in Prattsville between onion rings and real onion rings.

Thanks for restricted-view seating.

Thanks for viruses that are smarter than human beings — or at least smarter than Republicans. And cancer cells that are definitely smarter than any of us.

Thanks for those who believe the unexamined life is the only kind worth living.

Thanks for junkets to give politicians an occasional break from all the stressful sitting around doing nothing that's their usual quotient.

Thanks for Psalm 109 giving cover to sly but craven advocates of presidential assassination.

Thanks for Cabot and all it stands for.

Thanks for the constant, relentless rant that both radio and TV newstalk have become.

Thanks for those who would have you punished here and hereafter for espousing religious opinions that are different from theirs.

Thanks for all the Facebook updates on their imaginary agricultural progress from the residents of Farmville.

Thanks for the plastic wrappers meant to keep your home-delivered newspaper dry that actually accomplish the opposite.

Thanks for the Sacagawea dollar.

Thanks for the fine print.

Thanks for abstinence ed. and all the good that has come from that scam.

Thanks for a system that lets a Clarence Thomas decide what a James Madison meant.

Thanks for all the creepy venomous critters in the storm cellar that you can't see but that you know are just about to crawl up your britches leg or slide down under your collar.

Thanks for all the consideration that all my good advice gets.

Thanks for the blackbird roost.

Thanks for the “manager's special.”

Thanks for the solemnity of the washateria at midnight.

Thanks for BB guns.

Thanks for all the guns, and all the careless bastards, sorry bastards, and crazy bastards running around out there in possession of them.

Thanks for lottery pipe dreams.

Thanks for the artfulness of the contemporary obituary in its attempts to avoid saying that somebody has died.

Thanks for people who need a raison d'etre and who call it that.

Thanks for dog-peter gnats and for the fool newspaper columnist who meditates on them with depressing regularity.

Thanks for the gud enfluence that text-messaging has had on speling and grammer.

Thanks for death panels.

Thanks for breast panels.

Thanks for the big bedbug comeback.

Thanks for the crabapples and buckeyes that the supermarkets and produce stands are passing off as homegrown tomatoes.

Thanks for the TV going out every time it rains.

On any one of those, can I get a Thanksgiving amen?




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