Because I can’t read any more about how Phil Mickelson is going to have to make “drastic changes” in his life because his tax rates are going up 4%. And because I can’t read any more about a loaded gun going off at a gun show. And because I can’t read any more articles about cheaters like Lance Armstrong and poor sports like Bill Bellichick. And because I can’t read any more about how memoirs rarely get published.
Because today I need a sense of humor, and what could be better than a Stuart Smalley therapy session with Al and Tipper Gore? I mean, really.
Have a great week, everybody.
http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/daily-affirmation-with-stuart-smalley/1356921/
Teri Carter's Library 
Thank you!
I think it was Phil Mickelson who sent me over the edge today, Ted. He made $43M last year. Gosh, I feel so sad for him…. and where will he go? Is he going to move his kids to Monte Carlo to save a buck? Give me a break.
i was reading something of shakti gawain (will you ever tire of my 1970s-new-agey-self-help references?) anyway, it was our feelings toward money and how people w/out worry about getting it, but people with worry about losing it. that it’s not the money at all, but our need to worry. phil’s worried. that’s all. did you see where burlesconi was ordered to pay $4M a month in alimony? he doesn’t seem like the type to worry about much thought–fortunately for him.
did you see michelle obama in her red dress? that put me in a good mood to last at least until tomorrow.
Oh how I loved Michelle Obama in that red dress.
I absolutely believe in this concept of worry. I think what bothers me most about the Mickelson story is isn’t that he’s worried, it’s that he’s giving a press conference to make a political statement, to say, I’m going to have to give up golf and make ‘drastic changes’ to my life because of this tax situation. I don’t begrudge him the worry or the concern, but I do wonder if he can hear what he’s saying into a microphone and how entitled and arrogant it sounds.
Ditto. Tired of all of it, the news, the fabricated news, the self-inflated drama, all of it. Here’s to Stuart Smalley.
And enjoy your week, my friend.
Yes! The fabricated news. Anything to sell air time. I heard someone say recently (Bill Maher?) that the news programs don’t know what to say if they aren’t whipping us into a panic. Panicky people mean better ratings, and news is nothing but that anymore.
Except on PBS. I started watching NewsHour last year and now it’s all I watch and almost the only news I read (via their blog). They still cover some silly stories, but I find the lack of window dressing and the calm delivery so refreshing. Now I’m a PBS evangelical, as you can see.
Thank you, Averil, for this reminder of the PBS news hour. I need to get back to that. No loud music, no flashy graphics, no shouting. Ahhhh.
And no commercials during the NewsHour either. When Shields and Brooks comment you get a rational, moderate Republican talking with a rational, moderate Democrat. I haven’t watched network news in at least ten years. Why would I?
Thanks for the Smalley/Francken vid. A bit of fresh air, kind of like the inauguration.
That would be Senator Stuart Smalley.
That’s exactly the first thing my husband said, Paul. Who’d have ever thought, back in his Daily Affirmations days, that Franken would be a senator! This certainly says that anything is possible, right?
Hi you!
Thank you for that Salon article (with Betsy!). I especially liked what Anne Lamott had to say.
I loved what Anne Lamott had to say —– well, except for that part about never selling your book. I’m putting my fingers and my ears and chanting LaLaLaLaLa.
Thank you for this. Yesterday’s ceremony was a much needed balm–as was Michelle’s brilliant side-eye which I will choose to believe was every bit what the media speculated. Just thanking the stars we can wake up to the two of them leading our nation for 4 more years.
See the entire first family yesterday in their beautiful coats with their big smiles made me so happy. And hopeful.
I’m just sitting here in my little house under a blanket with my warm laptop and my fingers in my ears, lalalalala.