It's official, folks.  Al Qaeda started the fires in California. 

Who comes up with this bullshit, anyway? 

"(Washington) — President Bush again called Democrats 'irresponsible' on Saturday for pushing an expansion he opposes to a children's health insurance program.

'Democrats in Congress have decided to pass a bill they know will be vetoed,' Bush said of the measure that draws significant bipartisan support, repeating in his weekly radio address an accusation he made earlier in the week. 'Members of Congress are risking health coverage for poor children purely to make a political point.'

At issue is the Children's Health Insurance Program, a state-federal program that subsidizes health coverage for low-income people, mostly children, in families that earn too much to qualify for Medicaid, but not enough to afford private coverage. It expires Sept. 30. 

A bipartisan group of lawmakers announced a proposal Friday that would add $35 billion over five years to the program, adding 4 million people to the 6.6 million already participating. It would be financed by raising the federal cigarette tax by 61 cents to $1 per pack. 

But Bush has promised a veto, saying the measure is too costly, unacceptably raises taxes, extends government-covered insurance to children in families who can afford private coverage, and smacks of a move toward completely federalized health care."

That's right, folks.  Remember: taxes on cigarettes = bad, health insurance for poor children = bad, socialized medicine = really really bad, Iraq war = good.

Thanks to a tool I found on the Wall Street Journal's website, I have discovered Bank of America's candidate of choice--Mitt Romney.  Yes, those fees you pay to keep your checking account, adding up to a total of $59,918.57 so far this year, have been deposited directly into Romney's account.

By patronizing Bank of America, here is what you have signed on to supporting:

"I am pro-life. I believe that abortion is the wrong choice."
- Governor Romney, Boston Globe, Op-Ed, July 26, 2005

"What is it about America's culture and values that makes us such a successful nation and society?  ...We are a people who love God and look for a purpose greater than ourselves in life."
- Governor Romney, Boston Globe, May 18, 2006

"What is the culture of this country, what are our underpinnings? We respect hard work ... We are self reliant, we respect human life, we are a religious people... We are a purpose-driven people founded on the family unit. I think every child deserves to have a mother and a father."
- Governor Romney, Union Leader, March 19, 2006

"America cannot continue to lead the family of nations around the world if we suffer the collapse of the family here at home."
- Governor Romney, UPI, February 26, 2005

"We have to keep our markets open or we go the way of Russia and the Soviet Union, which is a collapse."
- Governor Romney, Kudlow and Company, March 22, 2006

"The jihadists are waging a global war against the United States and Western governments generally with the ambition of replacing legitimate governments with a caliphate, with a theocracy."
- Governor Romney, Omaha World Herald, January 23, 2006

On Iran: "In the previous global wars, there were many ways to lose, and victory was far from guaranteed. In the current conflict, there is only one way to lose, and that is if we as a civilization decide not to lift a finger to defend ourselves, our values, and our way of life."
- Governor Romney, Remarks at the Seventh Annual Herzliya Conference; Herzliya, Israel, January 23, 2007

Also from his campaign website:
Governor Romney Would Take Action To Secure The Borders Through Physical And Virtual Fences.
Governor Romney Believes That Coal Is An Important Part Of America's Energy Mix.

• Get more sleep
• Take care of my body by drinking less caffeine
• Procrastinate less
• Save the world

You were my unlikely savior.  Tasting of challah bread and the creamy coffee I had given up months ago and crisp Boston air that chapped my lips, you saved me from nightmares of giant spiders that nipped at the pale, translucent skin that held my thoughts together.  

Boston is the warmest city I have ever known; under almost two years of snow and rain I tasted God.  I licked Her from your earlobes in a hallway whose quiet made me feel so alone with myself that I nearly disappeared altogether.  I found her in the gap between your collarbones and your neck with an alarm that made me cry, "no, not yet.  It's too cold."  

I find my demons quickly these days.  They get caught in my teeth whenever I eat those thick, Jewish breads that remind me of why I left that city that I loved.  

I wanted to buy you irises.  I wanted to buy them in honor of all the words I never uttered when the alarm sounded at five and I forced myself from your warmth into the cold.  I wanted to buy them in honor of the smell of syrups that made you cry for months after I left, in honor of Harvard, but I knew they would just make things worse.  

I never knew your favorite flower or your favorite food, I never knew your grandmother's name or where you lost your first tooth.  More importantly though, I never told you how much I loved your hands.  How much I loved their graceful longness and their beautifully, obscuringly dark skin that shamed you when you criticized my Spanish, how they dwarfed mine when you'd curl your last knuckles over my fingertips.  Fingertips of hands that were rough with the uncertainty of many of whom you said I had cheapened but softened by my recent abandonment of trust.  

When you cross my mind from time to time still, I can't help but to think about that black Christmas angel on top of a skinny artificial tree that made me believe in something again.  I used to have nightmares about that angel.  I used to curse your presence at the memory of the last sight I saw when leaving Howard Avenue, that angel.  I can still taste her when I drink half-empty bottles of red wine like that Muslim landlord used to give us.  Red wine isn't supposed to taste like plastic and hair and cheap nylon dresses made in China.  

I wonder sometimes if you think of me sometimes too.  I wonder if french doors and broken glass, fabric stores and cheap plastic dishes recall my memory to you.  Most of all, I wonder what you think of when you see black Christmas angels, I wonder if you remember me fondly.  

I wonder if you remember Thanksgiving feasts where we were too poor to buy your sister turkey so we bought her a shriveled piece of chicken.  I wonder if you remember telling me that "CH" stood for the Chicano movement  or that your school had a pirate cult.  I wonder if you remember those big white chef coats that used to litter your floor and mine or getting drunk off screwdrivers at a work meeting and laughing about math on the bus ride home.  

I like to remember you.  Indeed the way in which you saved me is not romantic or scientific, malicious or charitable, or even necessarily the most politically-correct.  Somehow, though, I feel better already.