Frankly, at this moment, all I can really think about is, “Who let David Remnick’s hair look like that?” Here he is, my man at The New Yorker, Mr. Nassau Weekly, appearing today on MFJ–along with Joe Kline and Chris Matthews–it’s a PG hat trick! But what about the hair, David? Who told you, “Hey, you’re a 50 year old Jewish guy who still has something going on up there on top. Make the most of it, man, make the most of it!”?

A simple image-google later and I think we can find the basis of this decision. Let’s chalk it up to just another case of Keeping Up with the Jonses:

You know, this is just sad. There’s David Remnick with all that top growth just laying there limp (trust me, it’s not good full frontal) and there’s Malcolm and his enormous, bare forehead. The truth: the Jewfro cannot match the Halfro, no matter how hard it tries.

As for the two thoughts from last night, not sure if they’re still worth bothering with. Malcom Gladwell’s hair is in the house. What more can we say?

Clearly, I have lapsed into bad habits this week, what with Tech Support Guy gone and no looming deadlines. However, I believe I owe a certain subset of the Dear Readers a brief report on yesterday’s doings. I will write them up separately, once MFJ is done with. The “decision” to post only once a day is hereby overruled. Twitter “followers” be damned. If you can’t stand the links to the blog, remove me.

This used to be my favorite bridge

OK, disjointedly cruising web while fast-forwarding through MFJ. I went on something of a Twitter bender on Tuesday night, eventually landing on the biggest prize of them all–none other than past PG Superhero Questlove! Not only does ?uesto tweet, he blips.

The problem with the Twitter bender is this: currently, when I post here at PG, I blast a tweet (man, that is the new shitting euphemism) with a tiny URL for the post. The problem: if I post too much, then I turn into a Twitter-spewer. (I’m sure there’s a better term for this.) I had to stop following my no-longer-new gay conservative British boyfriend because of just this. He posts a shitload on The Daily Dish. He should. It’s his day job. (When does he find the time to write the Sunday column and The Think. Again. Atlantic articles? I am obviously not worthy of the same bloggy air he breathes.) But Andrew’s constant tweets were irritating. Remove.

Now, the realists among you, Dear Readers, may be thinking: Is PG on crack again? Since when is her problem posting too much, so as to run off the 40 people now following her on Twitter? And you may have a point. But let’s look at the traffic. As far as I can tell from the commentariat here at PG, there are seven Dear Readers. 40 “people” are following me on Twitter.

If I was a different person, I would now create a Venn diagram of the two readerships. Let’s leave at this: you know who you are, Intersecting Set Members. What do you think I should do?

Hodge Podge Lodge. Hodge Podge Lodge. Hodge Podge Lodge.

1. Max Kennedy is on Morning Fucking Joe “right now.” Some of you may know of my pleasant acquaintance with Max. He is a lovely person. Max is promoting his new book, talking about Obama, and being delightful. I like Max. One of the reasons he’s on MFJ is yesterday’s ceremony to rename the Triborough Bridge in honor of his dad. Now that’s a nice thing to do–name a major bridge in honor of Robert Kennedy. But WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY RENAMING THE TRIBOROUGH BRIDGE? Come on! Why? It’s my favorite bridge. It’s the bridge where we broke down and caused a traffic jam that we heard about on the radio (seeing the connection here?) while sitting in the broken down car. Does any one in their right mind think New York cabbies are going to start saying, “The Kennedy’s backed up, we should take the Queensboro?”This might make sense if they named the three legs of the bridge after the three brothers: the Jack connects Manhattan and Queens, the Bobby Queens and the Bronx, and the Ted is the one you take if you follow the signs for New England. (I, for one, have never crossed that bridge. And given my aversion for all things New England, I hope never to. No, that’s a lie. I crossed it regularly with one of the Republican Boyfriends From My Past Life. Often. No wonder I can’t stand the Ted.)

   What’s even worse? Wikifuckingpedia changed the entry yesterday. As in, “We don’t give a shit about the Triborough Bridge, Robert Moses, the history of New York, or helping people. We’ll just redirect them to the Robert Kennedy Memorial Bridge. The Triborough, that is so November 19th, 2008.”

   This is when I have a problem with the speed of change. This is when I want to give up all the tweeting and blipping and the linking and the commenting. Fuck it all. I’ll even turn in the DVR and record MFJ on a VCR. Triborough Bridge? History.

   But this is not why I started down this path. No, yesterday, when I saw a post about the ceremony on some news website, there was a picture of the dedication. Now, if you grew up in New York driving to Long Island, you pretty much know every inch of this bridge. And you can figure out exactly where they were standing in the freezing wind. And if I had managed to skitch this picture, I wouldn’t have to waste your time and mine describing it. But I didn’t because yesterday I was all worried about posting to Prematurely Grey because I don’t want to run off the strangers who follow me on Twitter, so I was doing everything I could to not post stuff here (even though I posted stuff here–worked out great, didn’t it?). The picture: Robert Kennedy Jr. standing making a speech. Various Kennedys surrounding him, including Max (very recognizable guy–white hair). Post mentions Bloomberg and Patton were there, among other dignitaries. And who are these other dignitaries? There’s this guy with even whiter hair than Max’s. Hmmm. He’s kind of tall and commanding looking. There’s something about that guy…

   When the fuck did BILL CLINTON BECOME AN “OTHER DIGNITARY?”

   People, I’m not going to be able to make any headway on Hodge Podge Lodge Thursday if this is the kind of crap that’s going on out there in Blogadelphia. (Hat tip Joe Klein, back in the MFH over at Swampland.) Bill Clinton returns from Kuwait, promises to stop shaking down foreign oil magnates for anti-malarial drugs, and BOOM! he’s nothing but an “other dignitary?” He’s the guy they’re showing “right now” on MFJ at the dedication. Not Mayor Mike. Not Governor Shack Up II. (He’s kind of the Pope John Paul II of New York, isn’t he?) No, they’re showing the Big Dog. He’s telling me to think of Robert Kennedy’s legacy every time I go over that bridge.

   No fucking way, Bill. No way. I am not going to think of Robert Kennedy’s legacy every time I cross that bridge. Sorry, I love ya, but no dice.

   Sometimes, when I cross that bridge, I’m going to think, Fuck, we’re going to miss the plane. Other times, I wish we’d left at 11:00 like we said we would. Some days it’ll be, I hope the traffic’s not this heavy all the way out to Dad’s. Occasionally it’ll be, Were we listening to WNBC or WACB when the car broke down?

   What can I do to end economic injustice? Nope.

   Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to name the Triborough after Robert Kennedy? Bingo.

   Hodge Podge Lodge is officially derailed. I have to deal with life. I have to check Twitterific. I have to go to the dentist. I have to buy some new shoes so I can defeat the Republican golfers who threaten to keep holding my state (and our nation’s future) hostage in the coming legislative session. Can I do it? Can I throw up (sounds gross) the eight other things that keep running through my Mr. Rogers brain? (”I’ll have things I’ll want to talk about/You will too.”)

2. The state of Texas is officially onto the next thing: who will get Kay Bailey’s senate seat when she resigns to run for guv in 2010 (Twenty Ten! Can you wait to stop saying “Two Thousand” all the time?)
3. I am officially obsessed with maps. Thoughts on space, maps, and the future of our nation another time.
4. I have to stop trying to catch up on The New Yorker. Biggest. Time suck. Ever.
5. I found the index card with the names of the people who were supposed to vote for me at the county convention back in March. This is the document that shows my budding political organization skills and begs the question: when is the Three of Spades a lucky card? When the other guy draws the Two of Hearts, that’s when. Full story in my upcoming political memoir: Dreams of My Comparative Goverment Teacher.
6. John Aielli just played Judy Collins and I didn’t interrupt what I was writing to tell you about it. Who says there’s no such thing as focus here at Prematurely Grey?

OK, that’s just six. There’s more, like will we have a tough woman from Arizona as the head of Homeland Security? Who else loves the idea of Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State? Will I ever get a job or will my addiction to MFJ keep me from moving off my bed, let alone up the ladder? What’s up with Tom Daschle’s glasses?

But wait, before I sign off, I must give you this final Hodge Podge Lodge tidbit, courtesy of Twitter (tying it all together, people–I am still a writer at heart, despite all evidence to the contrary):

wow. that's about all they could say. wow.

See why you’ve got to get on Twitter?

Democrats on the move in Texas? Check

Democrat in the White House? Check

Democrat representing me in Congress? (Well, you can’t have everything–where would you put it?)

Frankly, I’ve been preparing to hang up the superpowers for good. Not only does democracy seem to be on the upswing, I can’t afford the shoes in the Current Economic Climate and the Ongoing Middle Age Identity Crisis has me paralyzed, hair-wise.

I came home from the second 7:30 am middle school parent meeting of the week (yes, everything you think that is wrong with that phrase is indeed wrong with that phrase) gearing up to announce my retirement. Before getting on with the Great Announcement, I thought I’d unwind with a little Cafe Vienna moment courtesy of MSNBC. Just a smidge of MSNBC. Not a full Morning Fucking Joe rewind–no need to get involved in Transition to the White House–Obamanation or Abomination! this morning. Time to grow up, move on, knit some hats.

And BOOM there she was! WWSPD on November 13, 2008? Of couse, she’d speak at the Republican Governors Association meeting in Miami. But why should that bother me? She can’t hurt me anymore.

It bothers me because standing on her right is none other than GOVERNOR GOODHAIR, MR. 39%, TEXAS’ OWN RICK PERRY!

But that alone was not enough to drag me back to the WordPress window. No, I can resist Rick Perry and the thought of the 2010 Texas governor’s race and the likelihood that Rapunzel Sarah will come to the Lone Star State and stump for this chump. I can even bear the thought that I will end up “rooting” for Kay Bailey Hutchinson in the Republican primary so I can see Sarah repudiated by good Texas Republican women.

So why I am back ringing the alarm? Grandma made me do it.

People of Austin! People of Texas! People of America! Prepare! Repent! End times are upon us!

One Tough Grandma is running for mayor of Austin. This spring. As in, starting today, Carole Blahbedy Blah Blah Blah Something wants you to return her to the mayor’s office.

Could Kinky be far behind?

Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.

Started my normal cruise through the sites I read (Times, Talking Point Memo, First Read) and decided to check out FiveThirtyEight a little earlier than normal. Clicked through on the “Road to 270: Arizona” (even though I really don’t give a shit about Arizona) and HOLY SHIT!!! WHAT ARE MY SHOES DOING ON 538?!

I kid you not. I own those shoes. I not only own those shoes, I wear those shoes. I wore them throughout the convention (tucked flip flops in the big red bag for walking). I wore them them Monday night to the couple of local Dem events I attended with yet another man named Joe. (Evening Joe? Joe the Lawyer? New Mexico Joe? That’s it–New Mexico Joe.)

Could it be that I own and wear the iconic (to the point of being a CafePress t-shirt joke) Obama Mama pumps?

So far, I haven’t seen anybody else in these shoes. In fact, I tried to find them on Zappos and after scrolling through 15 pages of Donald Pliner shoes all I could find for you to see was the slingback version:

Ladies and gentlemen, I could have purchased the slingbacks. They were there at my local shoe dealer (and I use that word purposefully). But I chose the pump. Pumps, yes.

I’m beginning to wonder if the Superpowers have migrated downward.

I haven’t had a haircut since before the convention. Frankly, it’s been the source of  great confusion and concern. True confession: I’m growing my hair out right now. And given the fact that my haircuts are intimately connected to the fate of one Tom DeLay, enemy of the people, friend of casino gambling, I’ve been questioning whether I’m doing everything I can to save democracy.

But this is a new election! Tommt D, we are five seats away from taking back the Texas House. Obama Deputy National Campaign Director Steve Hildebrand promoted this fact to a roomful of national political bloggers in July. (I was there and I nearly cried.) This fall, I’m not just whistling Dixie. (I have been waiting to type that for years.) We are five seats away. Five seats.

If we win back the Texas House, the 2010 Texas House redistricting might redraw the seats Tommy L. and his buddy Midland Tom drew up so Democrats would never hold power again in the Lone Star State. (How could it be that Texas Democrats keep winning, Toms?). And if we redraw those seats and a few more actual representatives of the people are elected in 2012, well, we might be able to redraw those Congressional districts. And if we redraw those Congressional districts, well, Austin might have a representative in Congress, come January 2014.

OK, I’m not going to buy new boots. I’m not going to buy new shoes. And it’s not just because of WWSPD. I’m going to give the money I would have spent on shoes on the Travis County Democratic Party.

And for those of you who might be concerned about my outfit tomorrow, I think I’ll wear my mom’s 1973 black suede Bendel’s peep toes. I’d like to see Sarah whip out her mom’s shoes from fourth grade and rock them at her next fundraiser. Come on, Sarah, I dare you.

Frankly, as I’ve debated the resurrection of Prematurely Grey over the past two months (and don’t think that I’ve been thinking about anything else while upstairs “reading” all those history books I’ve been claiming to be interested in this summer), the don’t do it column kept tipping the scales. Going to the state convention didn’t do it. Going to Netroots Nation? Just made me glad to be in retirement. Brass ring trip to Denver? Well, maybe.

Even when Tech Support Guy offered up this gorgeous redesign, complete with the babelicious avatar, I still couldn’t bring myself to open up the editing window and compose a post. I hope all of you like the newly mod Prematurely Grey 2.0. I sure do. Makes me want to be as pretty as the site. Bought a crisp white shirt just to match the place.

But in the world of superheroes, white shirts are just what we wear under the scarves that transform into capes.

For the past five days, this beautiful site has been sitting unused, waiting patiently for me to suck it up and become just another Self-Loathing Austin Democratic Mommy Blogger with a Major Thing for Shoes. You know, one of those. My superpowers are no longer needed, it seems, in a world now safe for liberals. (OK, maybe it’s still not quite safe for us to drop the whole “progressive” beard. Let’s see what happens on 11/4.)

Just when I thought I could be a normal woman with a normal blog, he’s back.

Tom DeLay is back.

Here’s the headline from the Statesman website (which has now disappeared from the home page):

DeLay might be cleared of charges

Holy shit! Bottom line: Tom DeLay might weasel out of this thing yet because the money that was laundered wasn’t cash–it was checks. Wah? Money laundering of checks used to be OK (until the genius Lege of the nation decided it wasn’t in 2005).

I didn’t see this until this morning. But I opened a newly purchased hairdryer yesterday morning and made a pathetic attempt at blow drying my hair. (The George Washington look was wearing thin…) Yesterday morning I attempted to change my hair. Long time readers will know that this was the reawakening of my Spidey senses.

Tom DeLay, look out. Prematurely Grey is back.

If you’re like me, your head is about to explode from the conflicting polls in the governor’s race. Add the various reports re. Bell’s TV advertising going completely dark, and it’s Dia de los MoFos around here. It got cold overnight–Austin’s gloomy and so am I.

So imagine the thrill when my new best friend Pink Lady at In The Pink Texas put up the latest Zogby poll for a little Halloween treat:

Perry: 36.7%
Bell: 28.5%
Strayhorn: 15%
Friedman: 14.4%
Andy Brown: 14.2%
Lawrence Collins dressing up like Andy Brown for Halloween: Priceless

Now, Pink Lady does mention that she had to “pick [her] jaw up off the floor” after seeing how these results conflict with everything else that’s come out this week. Frankly, her strongest argument comes from the Strayhorn campaign:

This contradicts Carole Strayhorn’s internal poll from last week.

Strayhorn: 65%
Rylander: 20%
Grandma: 15%

Read the entire post here.

My other new best friend, Charles Kuffner over at Off The Kuff, is a little less reassuring this morning, which makes me want a new new best friend. However, in the doom and gloom of How The Fuck Can The Bell Campaign Be Going Dark? (my title, not Kuff’s), Kuff does point out the Paul Burka’s continuing jihad against Bell’s candidacy:

Meanwhile, Paul Burka looks at the latest Zogby Interactive poll for Governor, which as previously noted paints a picture of a much closer race than the Chron Zogby poll does, and he comes up with another reason why not.

The bad news for Bell is that his success seems to have come not at Perry’s expense but at Strayhorn’s.

Dude. All campaign long you’ve said that the reason why Rick Perry is unbeatable despite poll numbers in the 30s is because none of his opponents have been able to coalesce the anti-Perry vote. Now we see Chris Bell doing exactly that – this is what it means when some of Strayhorn’s support migrates to Bell, as was the case when Friedman started losing voters to Bell – and it’s still bad news? Is there anything that could happen in this race that would constitute good news for Bell by your reckoning?

Sorry for the ass-kissing quotes, but it seems more important that you all know what the smart people are saying instead of reading about one woman’s struggle to keep her eyes on the prize by reading Daily Kos sixty-seven times a day while Life During Wartime plays on endless loop.

Finally, if the news about Bell’s advertising is true, the time may have arrived to do a little something with my hair. Who I am to keep my superpowers under wraps if the great state of Texas could be saved by a single bottle of Clairol? Any color suggestions out there?

I’m writing to ask that you please stop turning up in all my favorite Internet haunts. Apparently, admitting that I was powerless over the Mommy Wars and my life had become unmanageable wasn’t enough. One day at a time, I told myself, I will not throw needless handgrenades post about anything having to do with mommmys who are doing something wrong. Live and let live–don’t comment when the Times publishes more incendiary pieces about foolish mommys doing foolish things. Don’t Google around cruising for entertainment because it will only take me to mommy bloggers’ dispatches from the front.

Caitlin, as part of my program of recovery, I tried to avoid the publication of your book. I chose to avoid the NY Times Book Review this week because I knew you’d be in it. OK, I fell off the wagon yesterday when I posted the link to the LA Times review, but you were lumped in with a lot of other books, so at least it wasn’t all about you and me and our tango of feminist denial.

But Caitlin, you had absolutely NO BUSINESS turning up at the end of a perfectly valid line of superpower-related distraction. As a woman bound to use the superpowers of her hair for good, I am sworn to follow any and all links regarging hair color, be they from CNN or Gawker. But when a simple Gawker link (” • Is the Times trying to kill feminism with bottles of peroxide and books about binge drinking? [Broadsheet]“) leads to a Salon blog that should send a happy tingle of recognition up my spine but instead leads me DIRECTLY BACK TO YOU AND THE NEW YORK TIMES, well, it’s yet another sip of the Kool Aid for me.

Who is this balanced reviewer in the New York Times, this Pamela Paul? Does she not know that you are the Enigma Machine of the Mommy Wars? If we don’t crack you, it’s pearls at pick up time and floor wax that’s also a dessert topping. Please please stop, Caitlin.

I can’t stand your subtle combination of satire, self-delusion, and success. It’s enough to land a jealous feminist mommy/writer in a room of yellow wallpaper.

Sincerely,

prematurely grey

P.S.: I guess the only good thing about falling off the wagon was clicking on your name at the end of Broadsheet and finding this fantastic review of your book, nailing you just the way I would, were I a successful feminist mommy/writer instead of the one I am.

People in Austin know that Jim usually wears his hair back in a ponytail, so just seeing it down comes as something of a shock. Honestly, Jim is the Everyman of Austin–that’s his role on the news and Central Casting could not have sent us a better candidate.

What’s really of concern here at prematurely grey is the type of power associated with no white in the hair/Santa’s Ringer in the beard contrast. Frankly, given my obsession with hair superpowers, that I find this combo shocking is shocking. I’m not sure if I’ve just been so focused on female superpowers that I haven’t had the time to think about men’s (except George Clooney’s) or if I’m just plain sexist (more likely).

Anyway, it would have been great to have a picture of the Mexicanization of the American flag, but Jim’s hair is probably more powerful. At the very least, it seems to give him access to everyone who’s ever owned a store and lost their lease.

Anyway, there were two things I learned on the KXAN website other than Jim Swift has a magic beard:

1. New Yorkers are likely to suffer more mental distress.
2. Dave Chappelle walked away from television.

Thank God they have a website so I didn’t have to wait until the 7 a.m. edition of Firstcast tomorrow morning.

What I like about this situation is that it confirms my primary nature as a reader (as does the fact that I follow baseball by reading about baseball). What I do not like is the fact that I am wasting my time reading about television.

OK, so here’s this morning’s trail: Thought I’d take a quick look at Gawker (check this link out for awesome shots of George Clooney gorging on a hot dog) before making the bed. Hopped over to Drudge (this is a first and clearly a new low for me) when Gawker pointed to it (Gawker now has many more Katie links, since she came out of the closet this morning on air). Drudge went here:
wnbc.com – News – Couric Announces Move To CBS

Because I am addicted to reading about television (remember, Katie made this announcement less than an hour before I was reading about it, so I consider this pretty much the high/low point of reading about TV online SO FAR), I read what WNBC had to say. And what bomb did my hometown NBC affiliate website throw my way? Try this on for size:

Following a months-long guessing game that has consumed the TV industry, Couric chose the 15th anniversary of her first day as “Today” co-host in 1991 to say it’s time for a change. “Today” ran a clip of her first day with then co-host Bryant Gumbel, which Couric joked was “172 hairstyles” ago.

Holy sideburns! Now we know exactly how many hairstyles it takes to become the most powerful woman in network news! Time to start a talley, so we’ll be prepared for day when I can predict the entire Eklektikos playlist before John A. has had his first cup of coffee.

My pledge: If growing out my hair, flying monthly to New York, and offering my head to the High Priestesses of Highlights will make Dick Cheney die, I’m in.

There are many of you out there who may not appreciate what that statement means, so I’m going to spell it out for you. I grew up on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. No one has to explain the power of the New York Blonde to me; I’ve been observing it and mercy to it my entire life. For me to be willing to transform myself into that which continues to haunt me (even though I have some very close friends who are indeed New York Blondes), well, that was the ultimate sacrifice.

Two days later, DeLay is out.

Some of you were a little surprised that I didn’t post immediately: Ding Dong DeLay is Dead! Well, I did post immediately (leading to the tardies earned by the Misses Em and Mazie this morning), but took it offline right away. I’d just made this big email push to people in my neighborhood and I didn’t want to scare them away with my DeLania. As the day went on, I didn’t know what I could add. My work was done and I was onto the Burnt Orange Report to freak out about how the Democrats will end up losing the Texas 22nd anyway.

But right before getting ready to go to bed, my devoted channel surfing turned up a song of the day-like gem: Elizabeth with Cate Blanchett. I’d seen it during the breast-feeding era on one of the Academy “For your consideration only” DVDs before the studios sent out special machines to go along with their encrypted promotional whoring. The second it came on, I knew I had to watch to the end because this movie concludes with the creation story of female hair-cutting superpowers. Elizabeth cuts her hair and whitens her skin to turn herself into a virgin. She then processes out to the court and mounts the throne, having declared that she is now married to England.

The screen goes black, tells us she ruled for forty years, leading to greatest power on Earth status for England, and that her reign is called the Golden Age.

I’m just sayin’ it takes an Elizabeth to be an Elizabeth.